


Diamonds Are Forever

by TheBellViper



Series: 00fuck-up Strikes Again [2]
Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: 00 fuck up strikes again, And Elliot doesn't know how to handle it, Buenos Aires, Diamonds, Diamonds everywhere, Elliot is a dork and won't confess, Explosions, Hustling poker is the only way to win at poker, It's not an Oz party until someone gets stabbed, It's not what you think, James Bond AU, Knives can win gun fights if Raven is the one fighting, Leo is the prettiest girl at the party, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, Or Is It?, Racecars, Sexy dresses, So many diamonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 99,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6861991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBellViper/pseuds/TheBellViper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 6 months since the fallout in Monte Carlo left Zai Vessalius dead and Liam and Break as international fugitives. Not incriminated in his father's murder, Oz now stands poised to take over his father's business. However, cleaning up some loose ends in the Jackrabbit business has led Oz and Raven to Buenos Aires in the week surrounding both the FIA Grand Prix and a battle between two giants in the black market diamond trade to gain possession of the largest uncut diamond ever found. It's a deal Liam and Break are determined to keep from happening, and one which Elliot Nightray and his valet Leo are determined to win, no matter the cost. </p><p>In their quest to uncover the secrets surrounding the mysterious organization known as the Baskervilles Liam and Break will end up unwittingly swept along in the tide of the black market diamond trade and find themselves forced to not only allow the deal to take place, but participate in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers! Welcome to Part Two of the James Bond AU! If you haven't read Part One, it is part of this same series, is now complete, and introduces the characters and setting of the story. 
> 
> You may notice far fewer trigger warning for this story than the last. What relief! This story is lighter in tone (mainly due to Elleo shenanigans), so if you struggled with the last one this will be more of a carefree ride, so enjoy! I won't reveal who dies, only say that just like I put in the initial notes in the last story, it's NOT a protagonist, or anyone I think you'd be too sad to see go. 
> 
> Another mention I'd like to make is of another fan video made by the same person that made the Elleo one (top link for those of you who missed it in the last chapter of Casino Royale). This one centers around Oz and Raven and features spoilers from the first story, as well as some original dialogue she made up. 
> 
> (Elleo)  
> http://theangryanimepianist.tumblr.com/post/143898375518/fan-art-montage-art-from-various-sources
> 
> (Ozbert)  
> http://theangryanimepianist.tumblr.com/post/143948181936/another-fan-video-for-the-pandora-hearts-james
> 
> I've had several people message me asking for permission to draw fanart for this story, so I thought I'd mention in the author's notes that anything you want to create as fan media for this story is completely fine with me! And I'd absolutely LOVE to see it, if you do! If you post it in a comment on the story or send it to me in a message, I'll give you a mention like the ones above. 
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings for this specific chapter include some descriptions of violence (including death, but only of an unnamed OC). Other than that, just fun!

Night settled over Buenos Aires, pooling in the spaces between the buildings and surging up the waterfront from beneath the waves to coat the city in satin-colored twilight. Lights and music rallied around the call brought on by sunset and blazed bold and loud from countless narrow alleyways and broad streets. Vibrancy permeated every breath of air, peopling the bright city with a living energy, setting it sparkling like a jewel in a crown.

Nowhere was this vivaciousness more palpable than in the shipyard district of La Boca. The brightly colored buildings radiated a clatter of music. Street vendors touted their wares despite the lateness of the hour, beckoning for tourists and locals alike. Restaurants brimmed with the smells of spices and grilled meat and bars overflowed already with laughter and the sound of revelers both foreign and local tuned into the opening ceremonies of the upcoming races. And sweeping on high over it all was the sound of guitars and violins lost in the dizzying refrains of a fierce tango.

Amid this throng and clutter danced Xerxes Break.

What had begun for Liam and Break as a trip to the city’s most crowded district in order to avoid attention had smoothly - and quickly - devolved into a group of American college students talking them into a series of drinks to celebrate their first night in Buenos Aires. Mild drunkenness had become boldness, and when the music outside the small local bar had begun to play and couples to line up to dance, Liam and Break had barely had to exchange a glance before they had jumped to their feet, promised their drinking buddies a swift return, and swept out onto the street to join the throng.

“Are you sure about this?” Liam asked, pressing a hand to the small of Break’s back as he guided him into position in the center of the large circle that had opened amid the crowd to allow the dancers freedom.

Break gave Liam a wicked grin and traced a finger up his chest, then locked it around the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Watchers on the street let out a series of catcalls and cheers as the embrace extended, Break bending his back more and more and Liam leaning over him, holding him up by pressing their bodies together. The music snapped on a sharp beat and Break jerked up to perfect straightness, taking Liam’s hand and placing his other on his shoulder. His eyes winked with mischief and passion. “Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up?” he returned.

The challenge in Break’s eyes and words lit a fire in Liam, and on the next beat he took a wide step, snapping Break back down into a low dip, then righting him and spinning him beneath his arm, testing the limits of his ability and flexibility.

Break met the series of gestures with complementary ones, a tightened core and bent leg when Liam dipped him, a perfect set of tiny steps on the balls of his feet to accommodate the quick turn that sent him spinning under Liam’s arm. _This asshole’s testing me…_ Break realized as Liam began a dizzying series of long, graceful steps in perfect tango form, guiding Break in a semi-circular pattern around the gathered crowd. Break’s eyes narrowed. _Well that just won’t do._ “Think you can hold my weight?” he asked as Liam shifted, readying himself to perform another spin.

Liam blinked and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Break lifted his weight onto one foot, hooking his knee around the back of Liam’s and jerking their bodies closer together. His hand left Liam’s and braced against his other shoulder, and on the next beat he pushed hard off the ground with one leg, sweeping his other out in a wide, sweeping arabesque that gave him the momentum to travel high into the air.

Liam’s hands dropped automatically to Break’s waist, bracing him to keep him from falling. He looked up into Break’s face, trying to disguise his surprise at the grace and skill of Break’s dancing. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of practice holding your weight,” he crooned, dropping Break back to earth and pulling him in close, their hips grinding against one another’s as they resumed their dance.

Break hummed low in his throat, extending the grind of their hips against one another’s another few steps before he shifted their pattern, sliding one of his legs between Liam’s. Liam read the gesture before Break could surprise him and shifted his hold, grabbing Break’s wrists and sweeping him under his legs, then tugging him back towards his feet.

            Now it was Break’s turn to disguise a yelp of surprise as instead of returning him to the ground Liam swept him up into another lift, spinning him as he did. Break found himself looking at the sky above Liam’s head, Liam’s large hands cradling his hips. He mitigated his shock in half a second and turned the gesture into a theatrical one, arching his back sensuously and draping his arms over his head. He bent his legs down and around Liam’s shoulders, releasing the tension in his back and dropping his head so far it nearly touched Liam’s back.

The crowd roared with applause as they held the pose for a beat, and only grew louder as Liam tossed Break up, caught him around the waist, and dragged him downwards slowly, every inch of their bodies connecting as he did.

            Break’s heart was racing, and as Liam lowered him his arm caught around his neck and they connected in another kiss. Their hands returned to dancing position even as they continued to kiss, and they took a few steps locked together that way, Liam bending Break backwards almost over his knee and jerking his face away, smiling wolfishly down at him. “What do you say we give them a _real_ show, bonnie?” he murmured as he pulled Break in another set of steps.

            “Now, now, Liam, aren’t we trying to _avoid_ attention?” Break chided even as he loosened in Liam’s arms, allowing him the freedom to lift and move his body in whatever way he needed to.

            Liam gasped in mock shock. “Are _you_ telling me you don’t want to make a scene?” he said with a smirk. “Now you’ve got me surprised...”

            Break jerked Liam to a halt and darted around him in a series of spins, satisfaction bubbling through him as Liam’s hands shifted position easily to accommodate the new movement. Liam caught him once more and dipped him sharply, the crowd letting out another burst of cheering. “Well, when you put it like _that_...” Break returned.

            Liam pulled Break back into another round of steps as the music began to quicken and heighten towards a climax. He gauged the space around them and stepped backwards, leading Break in a sweeping circle towards the center of the space. “Follow my lead on this. I’m going to sweep you down under my legs again to give you momentum, then throw you. I promise I’ll catch you. Keep your core tight or this won’t work.”

            Break stepped in and locked his leg around Liam’s once more, preparing himself to jump. He nodded and looked up into Liam’s eyes. “I trust you.”

            They moved in perfect unison, Break jerking back to standing and straightening his legs and Liam grabbing Break’s wrists and sweeping him under him. As promised he tossed Break in the air once more, and as soon as he had he moved, crouching beneath him, hands raised to catch Break’s wrists, locking around his elbows.

            When Break found his body almost perfectly perpendicular to the ground and Liam locking his hands to his shoulders there was very little mystery left to the gesture. He tightened his core and locked his elbows, trusting Liam to help keep them balanced as he tipped up to end up perfectly parallel to Liam, his toes pointed and his torso straight in a perfect handstand on Liam’s shoulders.

            The crowd erupted into a mass of unrelenting cheering, cameras flashing and people tossing coins towards the dancing couple. Even the musicians were whistling, barely managing to keep a beat through their amazement. Liam looked up and Break down, and they smiled at one another. “I knew I kept you around for a reason...” Liam teased.

            Break kicked one leg down, then the other, swinging himself against Liam. He locked one leg around Liam’s hips and straightened his other, pointing his toe and throwing one hand wide in a dramatic final pose. Liam caught on, supporting Break’s weight with one arm and raising the other to accompany Break’s, his head angled sharply down to look at him. “Yeah, yeah, I love you, too,” Break said with a wink.

            They straightened together and bowed, each giving the other their moment in the spotlight. Cameras continued to flash, but Liam and Break laughed them off, feigning modesty even as they drank in their success.

            The next couple – though they looked thoroughly disheartened – was already waiting to dance. Liam and Break hurried around the circle, gathering up the coins and putting them in their pockets. They gave the crowd a final bow, and on their way out of the circle handed a portion of their earnings to each of the musicians, as a thank you.

            They dodged through the crowd side-by-side, both smiling and full of energy. Liam jostled a small pile of coins in his hand and looked down at Break. “And would you look at that. We’ve paid for our drinks,” he said as they returned to the bar across the street.

            They took their seats once more beside the group of rowdy college students and Break tossed a few coins onto the bar. “I think you mean we’ve paid for _more_ drinks,” he said with a smile.

            Liam nodded in satisfaction. “You’re goddamn right we have.” He raised a hand to catch the bartender’s attention, the other dropping around the back of Break’s barstool and pulling it closer.

            Break smiled up at him, giving in to the gesture and allowing himself to be tugged close. His heart gave an unwitting flutter as he looked up, watching the way Liam’s cheekbones and angular jaw caught and trapped the light around them, illuminating every inch of his face.

            Liam looked down in an equal moment of softness, his eyes tracing gently over Break’s face and slim shoulders. His eyes narrowed in mock loathing. “Do you ever feel like a dick for blowing my cover?” he chided.

            Break stuck out his tongue. “Maybe...” He leaned up and kissed Liam’s neck, then pulled back and gave him a smile. “But I have yet to regret it.”

  

* * *

 

 

            Though night had illuminated most of the city, the retreat of twilight had left its harbor swathed in quiet darkness. At one end of the large port cruise ships twinkled and private yachts glittered, their passengers bustling down the busy quay to the city. Further down, separated by several security gates and barbed wire-topped fences sat a long line of industrial ships followed, their hulls rusted and clanging softly as they sat at port. A cluster of run-down buildings filled the space behind the port authority building, creating a twisting maze of cheap restaurants, strip clubs, money-changing offices, and drugstores there to fulfill the basic needs of sailors with only a few hours of shore leave.

            Dingy, twisting alleys wound between the buildings, all dirty and mainly disused, most stinking of stagnant water and trash. Large rats scuttled in the gutters, and a few mangy stray dogs patrolled the refuse for food. The whole place gave off a dark, foreboding air that was out of place with the vibrant flow of the rest of the city.

            Despite the darkness and stink and loneliness of the alley where he found himself, Oz stood at ease. His left hand was stuck carelessly into the pocket of his tight jeans. His right lazily swung a large, gold pocket watch by its chain.

He stopped the movement and caught the pocket watch in his palm, then smiled up at the man standing across from him.

            He was massive, at least six inches taller than Oz’s 5 feet 10 inches, with a set of wide and muscular shoulders that played host to an array of worn tattoos. His face bore a twisted scar, one corner of his mouth hideously twisted up into a sneer and his right eye clouded and blind. He held a sawed-off shotgun, pointed directly at Oz’s chest.

            Oz’s attention flicked from the enormous brute of a man to the one leaning on the dark alley’s wall. He was small and slight, dark-skinned and well dressed in a trim black suit and a bright red tie. He held a long, straight cane whose silver handle was molded into the shape of a fierce and growling fox. He tipped his head as Oz looked his way. “You’re very calm for an unarmed _boy_ with a shotgun pointed at his chest,” he mused in thickly accented English. His voice was low and thin, a whistling growl that sent shivers through the air around him.

            Oz clicked his tongue. “And you’re very calm for someone who seems to be missing his Jackrabbit pin,” he replied smoothly.

            The man shifted off the wall, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling something out. It was a bright gold lapel pin in the shape of a rabbit’s head, with two emerald eyes and a sinister red crescent of a smile. He tossed it into the dirt in the center of the alleyway’s floor, at Oz’s feet. “That?” he asked with a sneer.

            Oz bent, careful to avoid dirtying the knees of his jeans as he did so, and picked up the lapel pin. He straightened and turned it in his hand, examining it. “You’re lucky you have one of the early models I designed. I modified the new ones. They have different backs with poisoned needles hidden in them. If any of my informants notice dissent from a dealer I can trigger the firing mechanism from anywhere on earth. Ninety seconds after that poison hits your bloodstream you’re dead.” Oz dropped the pin again and reached into his pocket, plucking out a second one, identical but for the fact that it was less worn. He held it up to the man. “They look like this.”

            The man caught the threat in Oz’s voice and sneered. “Are you trying to threaten me?” he asked.

            “No,” Oz said, extending the pin to the man. “I’m trying to give you a second chance. That’s not an offer I extend to many people. Consider yourself lucky.”

            The man pushed himself off the wall and approached Oz. He looked down at the pin in his hand, then hesitantly picked it up. “A second chance...” He looked up at Oz, his dark eyes glittering and cold. “A second chance to serve a rich European boy who takes 75% of our profits?” His mouth contorted into a frown and he raised a hand, throwing the pin as hard as he could down the alleyway, where it clattered into a heap of trash. “ _Never!_ ”

            Oz looked after the pin, watching it vanish among heaps of garbage at the end of the alleyway. He turned his head slowly and gave the man a slow blink. Then his mouth turned up in a smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

            Barely half a second of silence followed the end of Oz’s sentence before a silent, dark shape swung out from the rooftop.

            Raven’s carefully planned fall carried him right towards the heavy with his gun pointed at Oz. His feet took out the weapon on his way down, and his fist drove straight into the man’s injured eye.

            The heavy jolted back with a cry of pain, but only staggered a moment before dropping into a fighting stance, his feet wide apart and his fists raised.

            Raven considered him, sizing him up in a split second of careful calculation before he reached into the lining of the black duster he wore and pulled out a set of curved blades. He launched at the heavy, pummeling him with a series of blows to the stomach with his knees and slashing fiercely at his face and arms. The man’s skill was considerable and he managed to block most of Raven’s blows, taking only a wound or two from Raven’s flying knives before he managed to get a foot up and kick Raven hard in the chest.

            The blow caught Raven off-guard, but not so much that he wasn’t able to turn what would have been a hard fall onto the alley floor into a back handspring. He caught his weight on his hands and readjusted his knives as he flipped over and back onto his feet. He didn’t even pause to catch a breath before he launched forward again, his knives held backwards in his hands to make his slashes and stabs even more deadly.

            The heavy’s thick arms and greater height allowed him an advantage over Raven in strength. Raven’s knives and fists continued to push him back, but not enough to give Raven any sizeable advantage. He thought hard for a second, analyzing his surroundings and making a few calculations in his head, then coming to a decision. He brought his arm up above his head to make a wide, dramatic slash at the heavy’s face, purposely giving the man an opening.

            He took it, stepping forward and grabbing Raven’s arm in a bar hold, twisting him as though to flip him onto the ground.

            But Raven bent his knees and rocked backwards, surprising the man and managing to upset his balance enough that when Raven jumped up and drove both feet hard into the man’s thigh it sent him toppling to the ground instead, flipping ungracefully over Raven. Raven kicked upwards and followed the man, rolling over with him so he ended up atop him, straddling his wide chest. His right and left hands rose as one, and he drove both blades up under opposite sides of the man’s jaw, severing arteries and tendons along with the man’s spinal cord and killing him instantly.

            The whole encounter had lasted fewer than twenty seconds. Oz had watched it with a satisfied distance in his eyes, able to feel the palpable panic radiating off of the smaller man before him. Raven pulled his blades free of the dead man’s neck and stood with lethal grace, turning to look at Oz. “Raven,” Oz said with a satisfied smile.

            Raven gave him a nod, stepping over the corpse and approaching slowly, spinning his blood-darkened blades in his hands. His eyes were cold and livid, his posture straight and relaxed, every inch of him radiating powerful, lethal grace.

            The man across from Oz took a panicked step backwards, dropping his cane in the process and stumbling into the wall. “N-No...” he breathed, his eyes widening in horror. “That’s...That’s not possible...We...We...”

            Oz looked over at Raven as he walked up beside him. “You what?” he asked the man, his piercing eyes fixing on him once more. “Killed him?”

            Raven advanced a step and the terrified man pressed back against the wall.

            Oz set to twirling his pocket watch again, tipping his head on one side as he considered the man before him. “Ravens are revered as gods in Slavic and Inuit cultures, you know. Do you know why?” Oz leaned forward and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “Because they never die.”

            The man hovered in terrified stillness, his hands clenching on the bricks behind him. He looked between Oz and Raven and took off running, his pace made quick by desperation and horror.

            Oz gave a sigh and looked after him.

            “Do you want me to go after him?” Raven asked quietly, already turning to run after the man.

            “Give him a ten second head start,” Oz instructed softly. He turned to Raven and gave him a slightly teasing smile. “You’ve got to stay in shape, after all.” He flipped open his pocket watch and began counting the seconds.

            Raven smiled back at Oz then fell silent, watching the man flee, already plotting the fastest course to catch him.

            “Now,” Oz said, snapping his watch shut and starting down the alley at a walk, bending to pick up the man’s cane as he went.

            Raven took off, dodging between puddles and leaping over heaps of trash at breakneck speed. Within a few seconds he had the man in sight, and within a few more he was close enough to raise one of his knives, take careful aim, and throw it at the man’s leg. It connected exactly as he’d planned, with the back of the man’s leg. He gave a shriek of agony and toppled to the alley floor. He looked back over his shoulder and, catching sight of Raven, gave another shout and began to drag himself along the alley floor, his eyes wide and scared.

            Raven slowed his pace to a walk, taking a cleaning cloth from the breast pocket of his long, black coat and beginning to casually wipe his blade clean. He retained a careful distance from the man, about 15 feet back, close enough to remain threatening, far enough away to maintain an unconcerned image.

            Oz caught up to Raven about 30 seconds later, walking up with the fallen drug lord’s cane tapping at his side. He gave Raven a nod and Raven picked up his pace, catching up with the struggling man and yanking his knife from the back of his knee. He walked around the man’s side and placed a foot on his chest, turning him onto his back, where he lay with wide eyes and fitful breaths, trembling in terror as Oz approached.

            Oz crouched beside the man and reached out, securing something to his jacket. It was the gold lapel pin he’d dropped. Oz patted the spot and withdrew his hands, then shook his head softly. “I don’t know why you tried to run. You never had any chance of getting away.” A cutting smile returned to his face. “Because there’s something else you should know about ravens...” His voice dropped to a low, sinister murmur. “They’re attracted to dead things.”

            The man had time to let out only half a strangled whimper before Raven slashed his throat, deep enough that the man bled out in under 15 seconds, staining the ground around him with a dark puddle of blood.

            Silence hung between Oz and Raven while they watched the man die, and remained for a few seconds after. Then Oz lifted his head, his jaw dropping. “Did you _hear_ that?!” he shrieked, jumping to his feet and throwing his arms wide.

            Raven leaped up, too, his hands flying to his hair. “ _Ravens are attracted to dead things?!_ Are you serious?! How the hell did you come up with that on the spot?!”

            “I-I don’t know!” Oz said, looking down at his hands in disbelief. “I was just going along and it occurred to me...” He gave a giddy laugh. “Holy fuck that was so cool!” He put his hands on his hips and gave a self-important nod. “Hell yes. We are so scary.”

            Raven reached down and yanked his blade free of the dead body, cleaning it and sheathing it in a few smooth motions. “ _So_ scary,” he confirmed. He looked down at the man and nodded. “Word of this will spread fast in this part of town. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble for awhile in Argentina.”

            Oz took a step back as the pool of blood reached him. “I hope you’re right.” He said as he and Raven set off down the alleyway where they’d come from. “I need to contact the smugglers bringing in this gang’s shipment and tell them they’ll be distributing to someone else, instead. They’re strict. If I don’t give them a name in the next few days the deal’s off.”

            Oz reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, holding down the power button to turn it on. The device flickered to life, displaying a cue to enter a password. Oz pressed his thumb to a sensor on the front of the phone and began to type in the numerical code to unlock it. The second he typed in the last number the device’s screen gave a flicker, then went black. Oz stopped in his tracks.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

            Raven looked down at Oz’s hands. “What is it?”

            “My fucking phone died!” Oz exclaimed, hitting the power button a few more times as though it would make some sort of difference.

            Raven couldn’t help a quiet, snickering laugh. “ _Your_ phone died? You? _The_ Oz Vessalius, spawn point for all major technological developments in the last five years?” he asked.

            “Hey, don’t be mean!” Oz protested, looking up at Raven almost desperately. He reached for Raven’s coat pocket. “Let me use yours!”

            Raven dodged out of the way, laughing again. “Oh hell no!” he said, dipping his hand into his pocket and grabbing his phone, holding it high above his head where Oz couldn’t reach it. “This is a rare opportunity, Oz. You don’t have a laptop, a GameBoy, _or_ a working phone. That means you’re completely tech-less. And you haven’t eaten in over two hours, which means you’re starving...” His voice trailed off into silence.

            Oz came to a stop, his face falling into an expression of resigned disbelief. “Are you using this to try to weasel your way into a date?” he asked bluntly.

            Raven clicked his tongue and lowered his hands. “When you put it like _that_ it sounds so manipulative,” he pouted, a teasing light still in his eyes.

            Oz groaned, dropping his head back. “Ravennn...this is important...” he protested weakly, already knowing it was no use.

            Raven set off down the alley again without waiting for Oz to join him. “Well, so is me getting a nice dinner and a good bottle of wine before bed,” he called over his shoulder. “Chop, chop!”

            Oz took off after Raven, jogging to catch up with him. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” he called, drawing up alongside Raven as they left the tangle of alleyways and emerged onto the industrial port’s main walkway. He glanced down at Raven’s left hand, then up at him. “If I hold your hand will you let me use your phone to send _one_ text?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at Raven.

            Raven bit his lip to hide a wide smile and looked over at Oz, shrugging casually. “I don’t know. We’ll see. It wouldn’t _hurt_ your chances,” he said smugly.

            Oz looked away, ahead towards the bustle of the distant city where they were heading. His right hand slipped out and his fingers entwined with Raven’s. The callused warmth of Raven’s palm was smooth and comforting, and despite himself Oz’s stomach jumped. “F-Fine...” he stammered, thankful for the darkness surrounding them, which disguised the presence of a faint blush on his cheeks at the contact.

            Raven smiled over at Oz, readily accepting the gesture of affection. Noticing Oz’s embarrassment he turned away, still smiling.

            Silence stretched between them for a long minute as they walked. Then Raven cleared his throat and spoke up, still smiling a little. “You’re cute when you blush,” he said matter-of-factly.

            Oz groaned and dropped his face into his free hand, his blush spreading across his cheeks and ears. “Ra-ven!” he groaned. “I just orchestrated the murder of one of the most formidable drug lords in Buenos Aires. I am _not_ cute.”

            Raven pulled Oz to a stop and turned to him. He pulled Oz’s free hand from his face and tipped up his chin so their eyes met. “Yes you are,” he murmured fondly.

            Oz couldn’t help a smile, looking up into Raven’s familiar, stoic face. “Y-Yeah...” he managed. His blush darkened, but he spoke further anyway. “So are you.”

            Raven’s eyes visibly filled with warmth and he squeezed Oz’s hand. “Thank you,” he said softly.

            Oz cleared his throat and turned, setting off again with his hand still in Raven’s. “I...I’m not...” he swallowed. “I’m not _just_ holding your hand so I can get your phone,” he mumbled.

            Raven smiled and gave a quiet laugh. “Thank you, Oz.” He squeezed Oz’s hand again. “From you that’s all but a marriage proposal...”

            Raven laughed as Oz’s blush returned fully to his cheeks, so bright and dark it could be seen even in the dim moonlight. “Watch it, if you’re not careful I’ll let go,” he threatened lightly.

            Raven shook his head. “No you won’t,” he argued softly.

            Oz’s heart gave a flutter and he looked down at his hand in Raven’s, then up at him, offering a sincere smile. “You’re right, Raven,” he murmured. “You’re absolutely right.”

  

* * *

 

 

            Elliot fastened his top button and adjusted the ends of his sleeves. He examined himself in the mirror, tipping his head this way and that to get a clear picture of how the white suit fit him. It was perfectly tailored, hugging his trim hips and graceful shoulders, and in it he was the picture of elegant grace that had come to be associated with the Nightray name. He stepped back from the mirror and turned, walking across the lush hotel room and taking a seat on one of the two queen beds. He picked up the phone from its cradle and held it to his ear, then pressed the button to dial the front desk. A woman picked up on the third ring, and Elliot put on a smile as he began to speak. “Yes, hello. This is Elliot Nightray, room 2555. I’d like to request my car, please,” he said, picking up the pair of white gloves that accompanied his suit and beginning to fiddle with them.

“Of course, Mr. Nightray. The blue, or the silver?” the receptionist said in flawless English.

“The blue, please. And I’ll be leaving out the back garage door. I don’t want to attract too much attention leaving for the opening ceremonies.”

“Yes, Mr. Nightray, of course. I’ll have it prepared for you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll need my motorcycle, too,” a voice from behind Elliot said.

He turned, the phone still to his ear, and caught sight of Leo exiting the room’s large bathroom. He echoed Elliot in a similar suit in all black, his long hair pulled back into a tight ponytail at the base of his skull, tied off with a deep purple ribbon. Elliot cleared his throat and stammered out an unintelligible reply as Leo finished cleaning his glasses, tucked a cleaning cloth into his breast pocket, and set the round frames on his nose.

He blinked at Elliot and raised an eyebrow. “Umm...did you hear me?” he asked, walking to the mirror and beginning to examine himself in it.

“Yeah, s-sorry...I just...uh...” _I just haven’t seen you in that suit in a long time and it makes your ass look fucking amazing._ He bit his tongue. “Yeah.” He turned back around and spoke to the receptionist once more. “My valet will need his motorcycle, too.”

“Don’t let anyone ride it,” Leo called over his shoulder as he pulled his hair free of its ponytail and began to braid it instead.

“A-And please don’t let anyone ride it. It’s a powerful bike, and Mr. Baker’s very attached to it. It can be wheeled up without turning it on.”

“Of course, Mr. Nightray,” the woman replied. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you. We’ll be down in about ten minutes,” he replied. The woman bid him a good evening and hung up the phone. Elliot hung up on his end, too. He swallowed nervously and gave himself three seconds to compose himself. _Alright, Elliot, you can do this. You can do this. You wrote a symphony when you were seven fucking years old, you can keep your cool in the face of this dumb little crush._ He took a deep breath and turned around, struggling to focus the second his eyes lighted on Leo’s thin, delicate frame and his lithe hands working in his own hair. “Y-You’re going as Glen tonight,” he observed. “I’m surprised. I thought you’d take the opportunity to meet me there as Lacie, in that new red ball gown.”

Leo turned from the mirror as he secured the end of his braid with the same ribbon. “I don’t want anyone to see me as Lacie yet.” He crossed to the foot of the bed and hopped up onto it a few feet from Elliot. “Remember? We talked about this. In case those vigilantes really do show up and we need a way to surprise them. This was your plan, Elliot. Jeez, you’ve been so forgetful lately,” he chided with a shake of his head.

 _Yes, well if I could do anything with my time but imagine you in that new red ball gown I might get a lot more done,_ he retorted in his head. He waved a hand. “It’s just preparing for the races. The logistics of it, and all, since I’m hosting the opening ceremonies this year.”

Leo tipped his head, furrowing his brow in concern. “Your face is all flushed. Are you feeling okay?” He turned over onto all fours and reached out across the space between them to press one small palm to Elliot’s forehead.

Every single muscle in Elliot’s body stiffened in place as Leo touched him. _Abort._ his brain screamed. _Abort. Abort. Abort._ He jumped up from the bed and turned, nearly tripping over his own feet and offering Leo a wave and a somewhat desperate-sounding laugh. “Oh Leo, you worry too much. I’m fine! See?” With the proximity to Leo reduced, Elliot’s blush had faded into almost nonexistence. “I’m fine! There must be something on your glasses.”

“Oh,” Leo said, furrowing his brow. He squinted up into the light and shook his head. “I don’t see anything.” He rose from the bed and walked across the room, stopping right in front of Elliot, so close their chests nearly touched. “Do you?”

Elliot’s thoughts shrieked to a halt as Leo drew close and looked up at him. _Oh holy fuck his eyes who the fuck even **has** purple eyes how is that even possible?!_ He cleared his throat and looked down at Leo. “Oh! Yeah, right here.” He pulled Leo’s glasses from his nose and cleaned the already sparklingly clean lenses on his sleeve.

“Thanks, Elliot...Seems like that’s been happening a lot in the past few months. I hope it’s something wrong with my glasses, not my eyes,” he fretted.

“Oh, I’m sure your eyes are fine,” Elliot assured him. He reached out and set the glasses on Leo’s nose, his stomach fluttering as his fingers brushed through Leo’s hair. He gave him a mostly composed smile. “Better?”

Leo squinted around the room, his eyes finally settling on Elliot’s face. He smiled and nodded firmly. “Better.”

“Good,” Elliot said. He took a step back and walked across the room to the desk, where he picked up his cell phone and wallet. “So, at the party tonight, I’m go-“

“You’re going to be the center of attention. Which means I’ll have the chance to watch for unfamiliar faces,” Leo finished.

Elliot nodded. “Exactly.” He looked Leo up and down. “Are you armed?”

Leo reached beneath his jacket, pulling a handgun with a long barrel off his back. He flashed it to Elliot and then tucked it away. “Aren’t I always?” he asked with a smile.

Elliot nodded. “The gala’s being held right on the sidelines of the racetrack. If you see anyone suspicious there are at least a dozen places you could set up a sniping post.”

“My rifle’s in the seat of my bike already. When we get to the gala I’ll make an excuse to leave and go get it set up, just in case,” Leo replied. “But I doubt I’ll need it. These agents have been taking down Jackrabbit’s rings and interrupting human trafficking operations for the past six months and nobody’s caught them yet. They’re professionals.”

“It’s not the agents I’m worried about,” Elliot said, checking his reflection in the mirror again. “It’s Lottie. She’s fucked up diamond deals for us in the past. If she or her valet, Lily is at that party it’ll be as a threat to us. And if that’s the case we need to show her we mean business, and that if she wants the diamond she’s going to have to go through us.”

Leo nodded, narrowing his eyes. “I understand. I’ll keep an eye out for them, especially,” he said softly, flexing his right hand.

Elliot turned from the mirror. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”

Leo nodded and the two of them turned together, exiting the hotel room and walking down the long hallway to a restricted elevator, which Elliot opened by swiping their room key through it. They stepped inside and Elliot pressed the button to take them down to the ground floor. He glanced at Leo as the elevator began to descend. “Is that a new jacket?” he asked in surprise.

Leo looked down at himself, flexing his gloved hand and turning over his forearm. “Oh! Yeah, it is. My old one got trashed in a fall during a practice run on my bike in Austria.” He smirked. “I figured I should uphold the Nightray image and replace it before racing in your family’s name in the World Cup.”

Elliot laughed. “Good call. My father’s already pissed off enough about this little hobby of ours,” he joked.

The elevator reached the bottom floor and Leo and Elliot exited as the doors opened. They were immediately surrounded by the sounds of whirring motors, revving engines, and drills spinning bolts into place. The mechanics’ garage was full of pit crews and engineers shouting in a variety of languages, tuning a wide array of racecars and motorcycles to perfection in preparation for the upcoming races. A few of them noticed Elliot and Leo walking by and followed them with their eyes, something between awed respect and jealous disdain on their faces.

Elliot and Leo ignored them all, ducking beneath racecars on suspensions and skirting around pools of brake fluid surrounding several motorcycles. Elliot spotted their vehicles and picked up his pace a little, excitement widening his steps.

A few mechanics stood near Elliot’s slick, dark blue car and Leo’s black motorcycle, and as Elliot and Leo approached they stood up a little straighter. “Good evening, Mr. Nightray,” one man said with a respectful nod.

“Good evening,” Elliot returned as he drew up alongside his car. He put a hand on the hood and ran it up and down. “Everything alright with the car?”

“Yes, sir. She’s in peak condition, like you asked.”

Elliot knelt on the ground, checking the alignment of the wheels and the underside of the car for excess fluid. “Excellent work, gentlemen. Thank you. I’ll let you know how she drives, and what adjustments we’ll have to make before race day.” One of the mechanics approached as Elliot stood and offered him a helmet, ivory white to match the custom racing suit he wore.

He took the helmet and donned it, then looked over at Leo. “Are you ready?”

Leo offered no reply, flipping down his visor and revving his racing bike’s engine, every centimeter of his small body full of excited vigor and thrill.

Elliot flipped down his visor and secured the helmet’s chinstrap, then opened the driver’s side door and climbed into the car. He studied the controls, meticulously noting each of their positions despite having memorized them years before. He flashed a signal to one of the mechanics, who hit a button to open the garage door in front of his car. The empty racetrack was brightly lit with white floodlights, sparkling and clean against the echoing night above. Elliot looked over at Leo and gave him a thumbs up. Leo nodded and revved his engine again, leaning eagerly over his bike.

Elliot turned to face forward, took the wheel in both hands, and stepped hard on the gas pedal, sending the car surging smoothly forward. By the time his wheels hit the track and the sound of his engine and Leo’s began to ring around the empty stands, he was already traveling over 80 miles an hour.

 


	2. Chapter Two

            The flash of dozens of cameras was already filling Elliot’s field of view by the time he reached the far edge of the course. The crowd gathered for the gala he was throwing in honor of the beginning of the FIA grand prix was large already, even though the last vestiges of a smokey peacock twilight still littered parts of the sky above the track. He looked around, checking that Leo was clear of his car, then whipped the steering wheel to the right and darted into a hairpin turn, zipping past and then sliding to an easy stop in front of the crowded pavilion situated on the grassy expanse between the track and the first few rows of spectators’ stands.

            The gathered crowd’s mad cheering rose into audibility even before Elliot had come to a stop. He smiled in muted satisfaction as he shut off the roaring engine and began to unbuckle the harness-like belt keeping him secured and still inside the car.

            Leo whipped by as Elliot’s engine quieted, slowing his bike and dropping one foot as a pivot point to turn around. He cruised up to Elliot’s car and dropped the kickstand on his bike, hopping off of it and removing his helmet. In a moment of pure and unpracticed synchronicity Leo arrived at Elliot’s car door to open it just as Elliot readied himself to step out.

            The flash of cameras and the volume of the cheering and whistles increased tenfold as Elliot stepped out of the car and removed his racing gloves and helmet and dropped them onto the vacated driver’s seat. He smoothed his hair out of his face and took a few steps away from the car, waiting for Leo to join him before he proceeded towards the party.

            They walked side-by-side towards the onlookers, both with their shoulders straight and casual smiles on their faces. Leo looked over at Elliot when they were about twenty feet from the cars and gave him a small nod. He reached for the snap securing the throat of his biking jacket shut as Elliot began to tug at the zipper of his own suit, situated just below his chin. Leo shrugged out of his jacket and Elliot slid his suit’s zipper all the way down to his lower stomach. The whistling and applause from the crowd took on a new and different tone as their graceless outer clothing peeled away to reveal impeccably pressed, completely wrinkle-free tuxedoes beneath, Leo’s in rich black and Elliot’s a deep Nightray blue, both completed by lapel pins bearing the sword-like pointed cross of the Nightray house’s crest.

            Leo looked over at Elliot as he reached out to take the racing suit he’d shed. “Your tie’s crooked again, dummy,” he said. Before Elliot could protest Leo’s delicate, skilled hands had made their way to his throat and were tugging at his bow tie to straighten it.

            _Don’t blush, don’t blush, everyone can see you don’t you dare blush you idiot!_ Elliot begged himself. The moment of contact between them seemed to stretch for an eternity as Leo adjusted the tie and brushed a few stray fibers from the racing suit from one of his shoulders.

            Even the few seconds of touch and proximity sent Elliot’s composure careening away and by the time Leo stepped back all the cool confidence that had dominated his initial entrance into the party had been replaced by rigid fidgetiness.

            “There. All better,” Leo said, turning on his heel and striding easily towards the party.

            “Thanks…” Elliot squeaked as Leo walked away. He shook his head under the guise of coaxing part of his hair to behave and strode as evenly as he could after Leo. A butler approached with a tray of champagne, and Elliot did what he could not to look too eager as he took a glass and drank deeply. He gave the man a nod and forced the anxiousness building in him away as he strode into the throng of impeccably-dressed guests crowded in the pavilion.

            He shook a few hands and gave a few composed, sophisticated nods to guests as he made his way towards a cleared area that denoted a stage at the front of the tastefully arranged space on the racing green. He stepped up to the microphone there and removed it from its stand, then quieted the audience with a raise of his glass of champagne.

            “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining me tonight for the kick-off gala of the 2013 FIA world grand prix!” Elliot raised his glass in a toast, which the cheering audience joined him in. He lowered his glass and gave the gathered crowd a smile. “I’d like to thank those of you joining us as emissaries from the beautiful city of Buenos Aires, where we’re lucky enough to be hosting this event this year, as well as those of you who - like me - are foreigners…” Elliot scanned the crowd again, surveying their faces with a bright, slightly satisfied smile on his mouth. “As you can see my father couldn’t join us tonight. An urgent business matter arose, which will be keeping him in Vienna for the foreseeable future. I’m honored to act as your host for the evening in his absence.” He surveyed the crowd again. “Buenos Aires sparkles tonight with your light, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you once again for joining me, and good luck to those of you acting as sponsors for this year’s racers!” He raised his glass as he spoke, and the onlookers echoed him, all drinking in unison.

            Another round of applause followed the toast, and Elliot left the stage to the tune of hundreds of peoples’ cheers.

            Several guests thronged around him instantly, extending hands to shake and cameras to snap photos. Elliot’s gracious smile remained intact as he shook hand after hand and accepted both congratulations and flirty invitations to further parties throughout the week. He fell into the easy rhythm, familiar with the casual tugs at his attention and the quick ebb and shift of conversation around him.

            His smile grew visibly brighter and his heart gave a small leap as he felt a tap on his upper arm and turned to see a tall, dark-haired woman standing behind him. She extended a hand and began to speak the instant Elliot noticed her, her voice rich with a bouncing British accent. “Mr. Nightray, I’m Ilya Manser, Editor in Chief of the European division of TIME magazine...May I just say what a pleasure it is to be here tonight, and extend my warmest congratulations on your recent business success.”

            Elliot took her hand and shook it as she spoke. A clang of anxious alarm shot through him as he did. _Shit. She’s taller than I am in her heels..._ He pulled himself up a little straighter to mitigate the distance. “Thank you, Miss Manser. It’s a pleasure,” he said warmly. “Are you here on business, to cover the races?”

            “The races, the diamond on display...and you, Mr. Nightray.” Her eyebrows rose. “It’s not every day a respected businessman like Artur Nightray cedes control of one of his most successful ventures to his youngest son...” she said, her voice full of implication as she tipped her head and considered Elliot.

            “ _Cedes_ control?” Elliot asked. His smile grew wry. “Forgive me Miss Manser but you seem to have misunderstood. The last thing Mr. Nightray _ceded_ to me was the piano he bought me when I started taking lessons. I’ve worked for everything since then. My name is _mine_ , not his. He’s too shrewd a businessman to cede control of a company as valuable as the Walt Disney Corporation to his youngest and least favorite son.”

            Ilya’s eyes widened a little. “You’re saying you _took_ the company from your father?”

            “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Elliot said. A flicker of satisfaction passed through him at Ilya’s visible surprise.

            “You’re barely twenty. Forgive me for asking but how on earth did you make enough money outside of your father’s influence to do something like that?” Ilya asked.

            Elliot’s smile grew a little smug. “Well if you go back far enough I really do owe it all to him...The piano Mr. Nightray bought me was the one on which I composed my first concerta, the piece I played to win the International Johannes Brahms Competition for the first time, when I was seven. After that people started buying my music. A _lot_ of people. Piano competitions pay well, and so do concert halls for the opportunity to have a bright young composer sell out their house for a few nights. After five years of playing private concerts, winning competitions, and selling my music I’d made enough money to buy a controlling share of our opera house, the Staatsoper, in Vienna. I won’t claim to have been knowledgeable to run the business at age eleven, but the people I hired to do the job were. Two successful seasons later I’d made enough to buy a controlling stock of the Palais Garnier in Paris, and to invest a significant amount in the global market, too...Smart investments add up. But I could only go so far into entertainment ventures before I found myself butting heads with Mr. Nightray. He was already irritated by the success of my musical ventures. I knew he’d do what he could to stop me moving up any further.”

            “So you bought him out?” Ilya asked with a small, clearly impressed smile.

            “So I bought him out,” Elliot agreed. The Walt Disney Corporation owns or partly owns a lot of smaller companies in the entertainment industry. Gaining control of it will allow me to spread my influence there in a way I couldn’t before.”

            “Very impressive...” Ilya tipped her head. “Are you-“

            Ilya was interrupted by Leo’s sudden appearance at Elliot’s side. “Elliot!” he said urgently, heedless of the conversation and his interjection into it.

            Irritation prickled through Elliot. Leo’s tone of voice and the expression on his face betrayed an attempt to hide laughter. _Oh come **on** , Leo. I’m in the middle of something!_ His head whipped around and his smile grew a little forced as he looked at Leo. “ _One moment_ , Mr. Baker,” he said tensely, his eyes darting to Ilya and back.

            “Elliot!” Leo repeated anyway.

            Elliot took a deep, steadying breath and turned back to Ilya. “Go on, please. My valet _can wait_.” His last two words came out just a little sharp, and he shot Leo another momentary glare.

            “I was simply going to ask if your plans to expand your influence in the entertainment industry would expand to your father’s other companies as well,” she said.

            “If it comes down to him being in my way again, then ye-“

            “Elliot!” Leo repeated.

            _Oh my God I’m going to kill you._ “-s,” Elliot finished, still smiling at Ilya. “Who knows, maybe _you_ could be working for me someday.”

            “Elliot!”

            Ilya looked between Leo and Elliot briefly, unable to stop her smile from gaining an amused edge. “Maybe I will...” She hummed thoughtfully. “So I have to know-“

            “Elliot, Elliot, Elliot...” Leo continued persistently but quietly, tipping his head back and forth with each repetition of Elliot’s name.

            “-what happens if you and Oz Vessalius cross paths? You’re the same type of ruthless in your business practices and rumor has it you’re far from friends.”

            Elliot bristled slightly. “We’re most certainly not. He and I live our lives vastly differently, and though our cutthroat business techniques are relatively similar the commonalities end there. Oz is immature and extravagant and on a personal level we don't get along at all. My admiration for the growth of the Vessalius Corporation since Zai’s recent passing ends with the work of Gilbert Richardson, Oz’s CFO and Vice President. To be honest I’m fairly sure Mr. Richardson’s efforts are all that’s keeping them afloat,” he said, struggling to maintain an air of professionalism.

            “Elliot!” Leo said once more, his voice louder and more deliberate this time.

            Elliot’s resolve finally snapped and he whipped around to face Leo, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him a few times. “ _What_?!” he choked, only barely managing to keep his voice even and his demeanor level-headed.

            Leo recovered from Elliot’s shaking and bit his lip to restrain a giggle before he spoke. “Oz is here,” he said giddily.

            Mania twinged instantly into Elliot’s smile. “He’s _what_?” he asked, releasing Leo’s shoulders and forcing himself to take a deep breath.

            “He’s here,” Leo repeated, unable to help snorting a laugh on the end of his sentence.

            “Where?” Elliot said, his voice breathy. He lifted his hands and straightened his lapels and tie to give his hands something to do.

            “Over there,” Leo said, pointing across the covered pavilion to a table near the bar. Oz and Raven stood there, Raven with a rather perturbed expression on his face and a tall Collins glass in one hand and Oz a study in bright ostentatiousness, his blond hair effortlessly gorgeous around his tanned face and a smug smile on his face. As Elliot looked in his direction he raised a hand and gave him a coy little wave.

            Elliot stiffened. _This motherfucker did not._ He cleared his throat and swallowed a lump of rage building in his chest. “Well, isn’t that nice,” he managed. He turned to look at Ilya, struggling to keep his composure. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, Miss Manser.”

            Elliot grabbed Leo by the arm and set off across the pavilion without a word of explanation or a farewell. He managed polite smiles for the few people who called to him on his way but didn’t stop for another conversation or photo.

            Elliot came to an abrupt halt as he reached Oz, dropping his hold on Leo’s arm and leaning against the table. “Hello, motherfucker,” he said icily. His face melted into politeness and he nodded to Raven. “Mr. Richardson.”

            “Elliot,” Raven replied with a disenchanted wave.

            “Hello, asshat,” Oz replied with a smile. He nodded to Leo. “Mrs. Asshat.”

            “Shut up!” Elliot said, instantly fighting the blush Oz’s joke threatened to put on his face.

            Leo and Raven nodded to one another. “Mr. Richardson,” Leo said seriously.

            “Mr. Baker,” Raven replied stoically.

            Tense silence dripping with danger and fierceness hung between them for a second as they extended their hands and shook. It melted away on both of their faces in unison and Raven rose from the table as Leo leaped around it. They hugged one another tightly and began to babble eagerly in Russian as they pulled apart, gesturing to one another’s hair and clothes in excitement.

            Elliot and Oz shared a momentary, utterly appalled glance at the familiarity between them.

            “What the hell are you doing?!” Oz exclaimed in horror.

            “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m talking to my best friend,” Raven said matter-of-factly.

            “H-How did this happen?!” Elliot exclaimed. He gestured to Oz. “You’re supposed to hate each other, like we do!”

            “Leo vs. Raven, Jackrabbit vs. Hunter, Elliot Nightray vs. Oz Vessalius, any of this ringing any bells?!” Oz said, still looking helplessly between them.

            “Yes. Bells we’re going to continue ignoring,” Leo said haughtily. “This is what you get, bitches. We’re Russian. Send us to kill each other enough times and we become best friends.”

            Elliot’s voice rose to protest again but Leo turned away, ignoring him. _Alright. One nightmare at a time, then,_ he thought bitterly. He heaved an irritated sigh and rounded on Oz again. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” he asked lowly. “I _know_ you weren’t invited.”

            Oz smiled smugly. “When you’re featured on TIME magazine’s cover with an entire issue dedicated to your life story and rise to power over a multi-billion dollar company at age eighteen you hardly have to be invited places,” he lilted.

            “Listen you piece of garbage. This is _my_ event. So that means you and your knife-wielding financial genius of a better half can piss off or...” Elliot’s voice trailed away as Oz’s attention shifted past him to someone approaching across the pavilion. “Are you even _listening_ to me?!”

            Oz rose to his feet, coming around the table and extending a hand warmly to the person approaching. Elliot turned to follow Oz’s gaze and blanched as he caught sight of Ilya swaying towards them with a smile on her face.

Oz gave her a smile as she arrived at their table and took her hand warmly. “Ilya! How lovely to see you again! You’re looking utterly astounding tonight, as usual,” he said.

            Ilya giggled as she took Oz’s hand, pushing her hair behind her ear and smiling flirtatiously. “Oh stop it, Oz! It’s so lovely to see you again. I so enjoyed our chats earlier this summer.”

            “So did I. And the recent issue turned out absolutely stunningly,” Oz said. “Thank your photographers and your very talented writer again for me, please.”

            “An interesting story makes for interesting writing…And an attractive subject for interesting photographs. More than a little of the credit lies with you, Oz,” Ilya said smoothly, placing a hand on Oz’s upper arm.

            Elliot’s stomach twisted. From this close it was apparent that in her tall heels Ilya was just a little shorter than Oz. _He’s taller than me. Fuck him to hell he’s taller than me._

            Oz laughed. “Flatterer,” he teased. He gestured to the party around them. “What the hell are you doing standing here talking to me, though? This party is a hotbed of the rich and famous. You’ve already snagged me for a TIME cover story, go catch yourself another,” he said, releasing Ilya’s hand and taking a step back.

            “You’ll be a hard act to follow but I’ll do my best!” Ilya turned to Elliot and extended a hand, instantly professional and a little distant again. “Can I give you my card, Mr. Nightray? I’d love to be in touch for an article.”

            Elliot took her hand and shook it firmly. “Absolutely. I’d be honored!” He took the card Ilya offered and gave her a smart bow as he dropped her hand. “It was an absolute pleasure, Miss Manser. Have a lovely evening.”

            “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Nightray,” Ilya replied. She gave Oz another warm giggle and a flirty smile and then turned and swayed off through the crowd.

            Elliot straightened out of his bow and turned back to Oz. “I hate you.”

            “Oh that’s so sweet…I hate you too, Elliot,” Oz said, his voice aching with sincerity and his hands flying to his heart like he’s deeply touched.

            Elliot took a deep, measuring breath. “You didn’t answer my question, garbage king. What. Are. You. Doing here?” Elliot fired back.

            “Not taking me to dinner, that’s for sure,” Raven grumbled over the top of his glass as he tipped it back for another drink.

            Oz whipped around to face him. “Hey! You said you wanted to go somewhere nice!” he retorted.

            “Your soul mate’s party isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Raven said, his eyes narrowing. He tipped his head back and drained his glass.

            “He’s not my soul mate!” Elliot and Oz exclaimed in exact, irritated unison.

            Raven snorted a laugh. He finished his drink and pulled the cigarette from behind his ear, flicking it through his fingers and into his mouth in a practiced gesture. “Oh, point very well proven. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to speak with the one man in the room who _will_ treat me to a drink,” he said with a nod to the bartender across the pavilion. He turned on his heel and set off, Leo at his side.

            Oz and Elliot watched them go then turned to look at one another sharply. Elliot’s voice dropped low and genuinely threatening for the first time. “You better not be here for that diamond, Oz,” he growled.

            Oz shook his head. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here to enjoy the races. After all my hard work as CEO in the past few months I think I deserve it.” He leaned back in his chair, a perfect picture of bold confidence. “Our stocks have gone up 13% since I took over, and we’ve seen a massive boost in investor confidence and capitol.” He tipped his head, a smirk awakening on his lips. “I’m just filling you in in case you missed that TIME article,” he said with a breath of laughter in his voice.

            Elliot’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better save a copy of that magazine. It’s the last one you’ll ever be on the cover of.”

            Oz scoffed. “Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

            Elliot considered him for a long, cool moment. “It means if you think for one second that I’m stopping with Disney you’re wrong. _I’d_ never put your stupid face on the cover of a magazine. And by the end of the year I’ll I own all the big ones the Disney acquisition didn’t virtually hand me. So I’m afraid you’re going to be quite the one-hit wonder.” He spun on his heel, his head snapping around in a dismissal.

            Elliot was barely a few steps away when a thought interrupted his progress. He turned, a smug smile on his face. “Oh, by the way? I’ve already got an HBO contract lined up for September. It’ll give me executive approval rights on pretty much everything they produce...” His voice dripped with implication and satisfaction.

            Oz’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward in his chair. “You wouldn’t _dare,_ ” he growled.

            Elliot’s smile grew. “You bet your ass I would. Game of Thrones, motherfucker. Kiss Margery goodbye. She’s living on borrowed time.”

            Elliot turned once more and strode confidently off into the crowd, the pounding anger Oz had stirred up in him melting away with each step. A smile rose on his mouth again as he walked, turning up the corners of his mouth with genuine happiness. _I win this one you piece of shit._

 

* * *

 

            “You self-satisfied piece of shit...” Oz hissed at Elliot’s back as he receded. Frustration still coursing through him set his fists clenching and unclenching, and he sat back in his chair with a heavy release of breath.

            He cast around for Raven and rolled his eyes as he caught sight of him seated at the bar with Leo, the two of them laughing and chatting. _Goddammit, Raven._

            The crush and noise of the pavilion grated on Oz’s senses more and more with every moment, increasing into an intolerable roar within a minute. His patience snapped as Elliot, at the collective insistence of the crowd, began to make his way towards the stage near one side of the pavilion to play the piano situated there. “Fuck this,” he grumbled, rising to his feet and whipping around to begin stalking towards the entrance.

            He wove through the gathered crowd until he found himself at the pavilion’s edge, then scanned for a disused exit. He spotted a service entrance and made his way towards it, passing through unhindered and unnoticed. The concrete-walled tunnel that led him through the stands towards the city streets beyond was narrow, ill-lit, and disused, flickering with fluorescent lights and full of the panging smell of motor oil. It wound through the underbelly of the racing stadium and spat Oz out on a long causeway separated from a winding mess of dark alleys by a wide road. Light from the nearby neighborhood of La Boca rose to pepper the smog above the rooftops gold and red. Oz considered his surroundings then turned absent feet in that direction and set off.

            The darkness and eerie loneliness of the alleyways rose to meet Oz like a silent wave as he passed into one, but his pace never slowed. Instead he ran a hand through his hair to tousle it into a slightly wilder mess, straightened his shoulders, and reached into the pocket of his pants for his pocket watch. He spun it on its chain in his right hand and began to whistle, a simple but piercingly powerful melody that would signal the approach of Jackrabbit’s particular brand of ruthless violence to any criminal on the street.

            The emptiness of the street and the knowledge of his own intimidating power began to set Oz at ease almost at once. A little hum passed his lips as something occurred to him. _I’m in Jackrabbit territory. Might as well set that deal straight. I don’t need Raven for that._

            Oz pulled his phone out of his pocket as the thought whispered by and hit the button to turn it on. It flickered to life just long enough to flash a blinding Low Battery Warning screen at him then fizzled out again.

            Oz stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh my God, are you _fucking_ serious?!” Rage overcame him and he shook his phone vigorously as though he were wringing its neck. “Why are you still dead?!”

            He resisted the urge to throw his phone into the gutter and cast around desperately. _Come on. Come on. You invented this fucking thing when you were thirteen. Making a charger shouldn’t be that hard..._ The shine of a piece of scrap metal outside a somewhat dingy auto shop caught Oz’s attention and he set off in its direction.

            The gutter outside the shop was heaped with random pieces of scrap metal and mechanical parts. Spotting a few strands of wire and rusting parts of an engine, Oz bent and began to rifle through the pile. He discarded some pieces and set others aside in a small pile, muttering to himself as the work engrossed him.

            “Copper wire to complete a circuit...this part of the engine would make a good transmitter...”

            A light step and the rustle of fabric behind him brought Oz back to the alleyway in a moment. He whirled around, reaching beneath his shirt for the small handgun he always carried on him. He flipped the safety off and held it before him as he snapped to face the approaching stranger.

            She slid from the shadows in a lithe slip of satin, each step half a dance. An air of lucid, unsettling confidence radiated from her, and even before she was fully within view her presence filled the street like a strong perfume. She was possessed of a glorious, almost unholy beauty that only enhanced the odd allure that her waltz-like movements and intimidating aura. Her face was narrow, with a pointed chin, high cheekbones, and a long, delicate nose. Her large breasts swelled above a naturally slim waist exaggerated into tininess by a crimson corset, and her long legs traced pale, beautiful lines against the darkness around her. A tiny skirt, barely more than a slip of red silk and a furl of white lace petticoats furled about her voluptuous hips. A dramatic red satin cloak swirled about her as she came to a stop before Oz.

            Her reddish brown eyes absorbed the light and slashed it to fragments of darkness as her face was illuminated in the stark glow from the fluorescent bulbs above the auto shop. A tittering little laugh echoed past her full lips.

            “Well, well, well. Oz Vessalius digging through the trash? That seems oddly fitting...” she lilted.

            Oz’s mouth twisted up into a distorted smile. “Lottie Villars,” he said lowly, steadying his grip on his gun.

            Lottie laughed again. She reached up into her hair, which was piled in an ornate bun, and tugged free a long silver hairpin with a little string of rubies at one end and a lethal needle-like point at the other. She tossed her hair and ran her fingers through it. “I’m working, sweetie. It’s Scarlet,” she said.

            “ _Scarlet,_ ” Oz corrected. “I should have known. That cloak makes it a little more than apparent. You’re going to get caught if you’re not careful.”

            “It’s so sweet of you to care, Oz! Think I should go for something more subtle?” She nodded down at Oz’s pocket watch, which had fallen to the sidewalk in his hurry to draw his gun. “A pocket watch, maybe?”

            “Oh no, by all means keep attracting the attention of the authorities. It keeps them off my back,” Oz retorted. He gathered his watch in one hand and rose to his feet, his gun still pointed at Lottie’s chest. “If your boss sent you here to try and fuck up one of my rings you might as well go home. Raven and I just killed the last rival I had in Argentina. Nobody’s left alive to help you.”

            “Oh no, no. You can keep your drugs...My people are here for that diamond they’re keeping at FIA’s exposition,” she said with a shake of her head.

            “Well don’t get your hopes up. Hunter’s here for it, too. And he’s got Leo with him.”

            Lottie gasped a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to her heart. “Oh I _know_! Isn’t it just wonderful?! Lily’s been looking for an excuse to sink her teeth into Leo’s neck for years! And I’ve always wondered what a Nightray’s scream would sound like...” she said, her voice growing breathy and her eyes a little wild as she spoke.

            Oz’s skin prickled uncomfortably and he instinctively leaned his weight forward onto the balls of his feet, ready to run. He fought hard to keep the fear from his face as he spoke again. “Well by all means, take them out. Hunter and Leo have been a thorn in my side since we met...” He said. The unduly cruel statement left a sour taste in the back of his throat but his voice remained firm. Almost subconsciously Oz’s eyes began to drift, searching the darkness around them. “Where is that little monstrosity of yours, anyway?” he asked, unable to keep a flicker of unease from his voice.

            “Oh, she’s off on an errand.” Lottie’s face opened in a toothy smile. “Hunter and I aren’t the only ones after that diamond...” She giggled. “Or we _weren’t_ , anyway.” She gave Oz a slow blink. “ _You’re_ not after it, are you?” she asked sweetly.

            Oz’s spine tingled and his thumb slipped down to the secret button below the trigger of his gun, which would summon Raven if pressed. “No,” he replied.

            Lottie gave a half-disappointed sigh. “Too bad...I guess that means I’ve got no reason to kill you. Not yet.” She gathered her hair back into a loose impression of the bun she’d had it in before and stuck the long, silver pin back into it.

            Oz’s hold on his gun tightened as Lottie moved.

            Lottie bit her lip and pushed her cloak back a little off her shoulders, exposing more of her skin. “Mmmmm...Oz, you look so _powerful_ with that gun in your hands.” She took a step towards him. “I’m not going to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t let you hurt me...”

            Oz withdrew from her advance. “No,” he said icily. “Back off.”

            Lottie drew closer still. “I’m only trying to give you a warning, Oz...Lean in close and I’ll tell you a secret...” Her voice took on a sing-song quality and one of her hands rose to her corset to begin unlacing the top.

            Oz’s face hardened. “Stop it. I’m not interested in you.”

            Lottie halted. “Is it the masochism, or the tits? From what I hear you’re not into anyone who doesn’t have a cock these days.”

            “The fuck do you care?” Oz hissed.

            Lottie tipped her head. “You could do better than that cheating whore. I’m not the only one who’s seen Gilbert Richardson sleeping ar-“

            Rage flared up in Oz and he threw his gun aside. His hands snapped out and locked around Lottie’s throat, spinning her around and slamming her against the auto shop’s wall. His jaw locked and his eyes went cold and narrow. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, squeezing Lottie’s throat hard enough that she gasped for breath.

            Lottie’s hands rose desperately and locked around Oz’s wrists in an attempt to loosen his grip. A strange smile came onto her face as she gasped another breath. “So protective...” she hissed. One of her legs snapped up and locked around Oz’s hips, jerking him in.

            Oz gave a startled cry and his hands rose instinctively from Lotte’s throat to catch himself against the wall as he lost his balance. Lottie’s grip on his hips was firm as iron, and her arms locked around the back of his neck before Oz could do anything to stop her.

            Lottie’s eyes flickered to Oz’s mouth and then back up to his eyes. She bit her lip and rolled her hips against his. “You’re an easy man to read, you know...” she said with a sigh.

            “Get off of me,” Oz said. He made to pull back but a sudden prick at the back of his neck stilled him.

            Lottie watched the surprise come over Oz’s face with a little giggle. She tossed her head, sending her loosened hair dancing around her shoulders. A shift of her hand set the pin pressed to the back of Oz’s neck grazing across his skin. “That temper of yours is going to get someone into trouble soon,” she cautioned.

            “Let me go, Lottie,” Oz repeated. A note of dark, sinister authority slipped into his voice as he did.

            The tone sent a shiver of indefinable emotion skittering across Lottie’s face. Her grip on Oz’s hips remained tight, but her hand dropped from the back of his neck onto his shoulder. Her eyes grew vicious and her jaw clenched as she gritted her teeth. “There’s no need to be _nasty_. I’m only trying to tell you a secret,” she said.

            “Then spit it out,” Oz retorted.

            Lottie considered him for another second, her eyes full of heated loathing. “There’s someone else here to play,” she whispered. “Someone _dangerous_.”

            “I don’t consider very many people dangerous,” Oz countered.

            Lottie shook her head. “You should...Even my people call them a threat...”

            “That would mean a lot more to me if I knew who your people were,” Oz said.

            Lottie shook her head. “Nice try...But that’s not my secret to tell.”

            Oz studied her for a long moment. “Fine.” He shifted back in her grip again. “Now say what you need to say and let me go. Who are these ‘threats’?”

            “Two Ex-MI6 agents, a tall Irishman with glasses and an albino Frenchman. They’ve gone AWOL and are growing more dangerous because of it. If you’ve had any rings taken down by unknowns in the last six months it was them. And now they’re here for Hunter.”

            A jolt of adrenaline shot through Oz. _Liam and Break? Here? “_ An albino and an Irishman?” He scoffed. “Sounds like some kind of ghost story. I think you and your people are jumping at shadows.”

            Lottie bristled. Her grip on the pin in her hand tightened. “Don’t insult me,” she said lowly.

            “Don’t tell me what to do.” He fired back. “Now let me go. You’ve told me your secret, so we have no further business with each other.”

            Lottie remained locked around Oz for another moment, a conflict of emotion in her eyes. Then she unwrapped herself from around him, sliding back to her feet and dropping her arms from around his neck. She tugged her hair back atop her head and jammed the pin into it to hold it up. “You shouldn’t take my warnings so lightly.” Her quiet, lilting voice shook with perturbation. “You might regret it someday.”

            Lottie gathered her cloak around herself and took a step back. She looked Oz up and down once more then turned on her heel and slid off into the night. The darkness swallowed her scarlet cloak first and the bright wink of her silver hairpin a few seconds later.

            Oz waited until she’d been gone almost a full minute before he bent to fetch his gun and tucked it back into its hidden holster. He took a deep breath and let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Psycho...” he whispered. “Fucking psycho.”

            An uproarious cry from the nearby streets made Oz jump and whip around. He let out a tense breath and set off in that direction again. He did what he could to convince himself he was walking at a normal pace for a few hundred yards, but the next time he passed a narrow street where the darkness grew deep and thick a pang of alarm strong enough to choke rose up in him. He gasped a breath and jerked forward into a run, sprinting hard towards the light at the end of a half-distant street.

            He burst out onto a crowded main street and drew a harsh breath, relief and adrenaline still pounding through him. He looked around at the tumult of bright colors and faces, searching for something familiar. _I should find a phone...Raven will be worried._ A bar across the street caught his attention and he trotted towards it, digging around in his pockets for some cash to trade for use of the phone inside.

            The place was bursting with loud music and light, and set Oz at ease almost at once. He wormed his way through the late-night revelers, half stumbling several times as the crowd shoved him left and right. He finally pushed his way past a group of laughing college-aged tourists and heaved a sigh of relief as he fell against an empty space at the bar.

            He lifted his head and scanned the space behind the bar for the bartender. He was turned away, hands busy at work preparing several drinks. “Excuse me?” Oz shouted over the noise of the bar. “¿Disculpe?”

            The bartender’s bright eyes winked behind a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles as he turned. His face was flushed with drinking and his brown hair tousled into a somewhat spiky mess. He caught sight of Oz and stopped dead with the tray of drinks still in his hand. A heaving guffaw of a laugh burst from him. “Well I’ll be fuckin’ damned!”

            Oz froze, his brain positively refusing to contemplate the bartender’s identity for a full second. _Please no. Please God no. Raven’s going to fucking kill me._ His mouth fell open and he stammered a few incoherent syllables. “L-Li... _Liam?!”_

            A second person popped up from beneath the bar, a bottle of wine in one hand and a fruity cocktail in the other. “Liam?! I found the house red!”

            “Break.” Oz said in utter horror, his stomach plummeting.

            Break blinked a few times in non-comprehension. Then he gave a dramatic gasp and hollered a joyful whoop. “Oz _Vessalius_?!” He swayed a little on drunken feet and laughed merrily.

            “This cannot be happening,” Oz said as he looked between them.

            Break snorted another laugh. “You look like you’ve had a _long_ day.” He set his drinks clumsily onto the counter and turned to snatch two shots from the tray Liam was holding. He plopped them onto the bar before Oz. “Here. Drink!”

            “Are you serious?” Oz asked deadpan.

            “Drink!” Break insisted. He looked up at Liam.

            “Drink!” Liam echoed.

            Oz looked between them. _Stupid Garbage Nightray is here, and for once his life is put together. Raven’s friends with **Leo** of all people. The second Liam and Break get sober they’re going to be on my ass guns blazing. Lottie Villars either wants to kill me or fuck me or both. My phone’s dead for the first time in living memory. A deal’s going to fall through because my phone’s dead for the first time in living memory. And to top it all off I’m still jet-lagged. _

            He shrugged and gave a hapless giggle, then threw his hands up. “Fuck it,” he said.

            He picked up the shot glasses and downed the strong tequila in them in two smooth sips. The welcome rain of the liquid in his throat left his tongue burning and his lips afire. He shook his head vigorously to clear the feeling and looked up at Liam and Break.

            Oz threw his hands in the air and grinned at Liam and Break. “Drink!” he cried.

 

           

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

                        Consciousness came slowly and heavily upon Oz, tugging him into groggy wakefulness and forcing a grumbling sigh out of him. He swallowed and found his mouth unsurprisingly dry and full of the biting taste of the remnants of a drunken night. His entire body ached and his head spun with the tail end of a buzz.

            _What the hell happened last night?_ He shifted slightly and the mattress beneath him let out a soft squeak. _In bed._ Sheets skated across his bare skin as he lifted one knee and he let out a sigh as a soft shiver passed down his spine. _In bed naked. Alright, that’s fine._

            The mattress squeaked and the sheets drifted along Oz’s thigh again as someone behind him shifted in bed. _Well at least Raven’s not pissed at me anymore…_ He moved to turn on his side towards the other figure in bed, but an uncomfortable pressure on his left wrist stopped him. He tugged again, a little harder. The resistance increased.

            Oz’s eyes popped open and his head jerked back to look above him. He found his left wrist secured neatly to a rickety wooden headboard with a silver handcuff, which was locked tight and absolutely unyielding as he tugged on it.

            “Oh shit!” Oz reached up with his right hand and grabbed the cuff, searching desperately for a release mechanism or weakness in the chain.

            The figure behind Oz shifted again, and he found a strong arm looping around his waist. “Go back to sleep, bonnie…” a familiar, musically accented voice murmured groggily in his ear.

            “Liam…?” Oz squeaked. He turned his head and caught sight of short, messy chestnut hair and lightly tanned skin. “Liam, let me go!” He wriggled against Liam’s grip for a few seconds before he managed to roll over onto his back away from him. He lay staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, his heart racing in his chest and his thoughts a blur. “Raven’s going to kill me,” he whispered fervently.

            In an attempt to compose himself Oz turned his head and looked around the room. It was a simple space with a generic writing desk in one corner, a raggedy armchair in another, and cracked blue paint on the walls and ceiling. A trail of clothing littered the floor, shirts and pants a colorful tangle that led straight to the bed, whose sheets were tangled and whose heavier blankets were curled in a large lump at Oz’s side. Oz swallowed and turned to look over his shoulder again, willing Liam to be absent with every fiber of his being.

            It was no use. Liam lay asleep on his side beside him, one arm still half-outstretched and his other tucked beneath his head. His glasses sat clumsily askew on his nose, betraying the drunken hurry that had led him to bed.

            As though he could sense Oz’s gaze on him Liam’s eyes popped open, instantly focused and alert. He considered Oz in silence for a long moment, then his face spread into a grin and he barked a laugh. “Well that was certainly unexpected,” he chuckled.

            “W-What are…What are you…? What am I…? How did we-“ Oz stammered, scooting back in bed away from Liam and tugging on his handcuff again. Something solid collided with Oz’s back then began to slide away, pulling the covers with it.

            “Careful!” Liam said urgently. He darted up in bed and reached over Oz just a second too late.

            The large bundle of sheets and blankets hit the floor with a solid thump and half a second later a low, irritated moan rose from it.

            “Is that…?” Oz’s voice trailed off in horror as he stared unyieldingly at the lump on the floor.

            The lump shifted and writhed into a more vertical position and then gave a shake. Break’s head popped free from the top of the tangled pile of blankets, his hair a complete mess and his eyes squinted against the light. A mostly tattered crown of yellow flowers drooped above his brow and a plastic lei dangled against his bare, white chest. His gaze traveled from Oz’s face to the handcuff binding him to the bed. “Oops…” he said with a giggle.

            A hundred desperate replies collided in Oz’s throat, the collective whole emerging as a small, strained cry. He looked around for some sort of salvation or answer, but found only an eternal cycle of blue walls, open suitcases, and Liam and Break on either side of him. Finally Oz yielded and collapsed back on the bed. His right hand rose and he slapped himself hard in the forehead. “Raven’s going to kill me.”

           

* * *

 

            Four cigarettes wasn’t nearly enough for a sleepless night wandering the streets of one of the most notably dangerous capitol cities in South America. Raven had decided on that at around midnight, when he’d left Elliot’s gala and returned to the hotel where he and Oz were staying in hopes of finding him already asleep. The empty room he’d found instead had been far more than a nasty shock. He’d left the hotel in a frenzy and spent the entire night combing the streets for Oz, visiting every Jackrabbit-owned location in the city one by one and finding each dealer, club owner, and bartender as infuriatingly clueless as the last.

            He’d run out of cigarettes by the time 2 am hit, and patience not long after. He would have admittedly given up on the futile search and left Oz to dig himself out of whatever self-made hole he’d no doubt fallen into, but a warning from Leo at the gala hadn’t nipped at him every time he considered turning back.

            _Look, keep your business to a minimum while you’re here. That diamond we’re after has attracted more than a little unwelcome company. People who’d do worse than kill to have Jackrabbit’s head._

            So it was that sleepless, heavily armed, and nicotine-starved Raven found himself stalking the all but empty streets of one of Buenos Aires’ several party districts at the positively unholy hour of 7 am.

            The sun had just crested the horizon and was beginning to cast bright rays of gold along the tops of the buildings, breathing new life into the city and setting dozens of birds into restless flight. Raven put his hands in his pockets and looked up at the slashed illumination, tracing the erratic path of a small gathering of pigeons winging through the pale sky above him. A small but genuine smile tugged at his lips as one of the birds circled sharply away from the others and fluttered down onto a lip of stone on a nearby building and hopped her way to a nest made of a large tangle of sticks and bits of trash.

            The sight eased a deep-rooted unsettlement in Raven and he let out a long, slow breath. _You made it. The night’s over. Everything’s always easier during the day. You’ll find him._ Irritation and the prickling need to smoke still troubled Raven despite the new security of dawn and he dropped his eyes back to the street. He cast around as he turned the next wide street corner and was rewarded with the sight of a small convenience store just opening for business. He set off towards it with a relieved sigh and made his way inside just as the clerk was settling behind the counter.

            The refrigerator and its shelves stocked with cold drinks drew Raven’s attention first and he made a beeline for it the second he entered the shop. After selecting the largest bottle of cold water he could find he walked to the counter and scanned the dozens of packs of cigarettes on the wall behind it.     All hope of finding a pack of his favorite high-end brand was dashed in seconds, but the ache between his temples was enough to quiet his usual snobbishness when it came to tobacco. He gestured to a pack on the wall and the clerk fetched it for him. He punched a few buttons on his cash register but Raven hardly paid him any mind. Instead he pulled a 500-peso note from his wallet and extended it to the clerk, who nodded and opened the machine’s drawer to fetch the substantial change from Raven’s purchase.

            Raven shook his head and waved a hand. “No, no. The extra is for you.” He laughed a little self-depricatingly and nodded to the bottle of water and pack of cigarettes on the counter. “In case you couldn’t tell I could really use a smoke.”

            The clerk chuckled and closed the register’s drawer. “Thank you for your kindness, sir. Here...” He reached into his pocket and produced a lighter.

            Raven let out a grateful sigh and reached for the pack of cigarettes. The smell of tobacco hit his lungs as he pulled away the plastic packaging and a shiver of need passed through his blood. He had a cigarette between his lips in a few seconds and leaned forward to light it in the flame of the clerk’s waiting lighter.

The rickety bell above the store’s door rang as the first stream of smoke coursed through Raven’s lungs. Curious, he turned and caught sight of an old man carrying a large stack of newspapers through the door. He gave him a smile and stepped aside to allow him access to the counter.

            The man returned the smile and gave Raven a friendly nod as he reached the counter and began to untie the twine binding the newspapers in their stack. “You speak English?” he asked.

            “Fluently,” Raven replied. He took another drag of his cigarette and spoke again in easy, nearly accentless Spanish. “Spanish, too…” he said with a smile. A rare moment of pride winked in his eyes as the clerk and the deliveryman exchanged a surprised look.

            The newspaper man gave a jovial laugh and switched languages along with Raven. “Well I’ll be damned. You certainly do!” he said.

            “You’re one of those educated Europeans here for the races, aren’t you? Whole city’s full of you. Just yesterday I spoke to an Irishman, a Frenchman, and an American all within an hour. Never seen anything like it!” the clerk followed. He nodded to Raven. “Where are you from?”

            Raven smiled. “Russia,” he replied as he exhaled a long trail of smoke. “There’s a new one for your list I’d imagine. We don’t get out much. Particularly not to places this hot.”

            The clerk laughed. “It’s certainly been quite a summer. Are you here with your family?”

            Raven shook his head. “No, my employer. He loves spectacles like this.”

            “You’ve got a generous employer if he’s brought you along for something like this,” the clerk said with a nod.

            “He and I are very close.” Raven’s heart gave a quiet flutter at the thought of Oz, of the secret kisses stolen between board meetings and the passionate sleeplessness of nights spent alone in hotel rooms. His free hand curled into a soft fist as though he was folding Oz’s in it. _Snap out of it,_ he cautioned himself. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “We’ve been friends for years, I mean. Since we were both young.”

            The newspaperman leaned towards Raven and lifted his glasses to study his face more closely. “I recognize you…”

            Raven’s stomach clenched into a tight knot of sudden, violent anxiety as the stranger’s gaze lingered on him for a long, studious moment. Though his right hand remained steady on his cigarette his left slipped around his back to unobtrusively begin feeling for the hilt of a knife strapped to a sheath beneath his jacket. “What do you mean?” he asked as evenly as he could.

            “You’re the one who was in the magazine, aren’t you? With that Vessalius boy? Is that who you’re here with?” the newspaper man replied with a smile, completely oblivious to the nervousness that had crept into Raven.

            The clerk blinked in surprise. “Oh my God, you are! Mr…Richardson, isn’t it?”

            Raven let out a tense breath and gave them both a shy, almost embarrassed smile. “It is. Gilbe-“ The word sent another bolt of panic dashing through him. He feigned a cough and turned away to give himself a moment to regain his composure. _Dead. Dead. Zai’s dead. You killed him. You and Liam and Break and Oz killed him. It’s just a name. It’s just a name. It’s just a fucking name. It doesn’t mean what it used to. Pull it together!_

            Raven cleared his throat and buried the ache in his chest deep beneath a calm smile in an instant as he looked back up at the men. “Gil. Gil Richardson.”

            The newspaper man’s face opened in a smile. “I wouldn’t have recognized you, but I delivered at least ten thousand copies of that TIME magazine with Oz Vessalius’s picture on the cover. He’s a smart boy. Shame about his father, isn’t it?”

            Raven’s stomach dropped. A strong compulsion in him to look down twisted into a bitter snag of loathing and his mouth fell into a narrow, serious line. “It...was a blow to the family, certainly,” he murmured.

            The clerk shook his head. “Funny thing, isn’t it? That they still don’t know who did it.” He lifted a hand to Raven. “You were there, weren’t you? What do you think?”

            The lie he, Break, and Oz had concocted on the sail from Haiti to the Casino Royale rose effortlessly to Raven’s tongue. He looked back up at the clerk and let his eyes narrow into a glare. “I don’t know much more than anyone else. What I do know is that Zai knew the man who killed him somehow, though. That’s how the assassin ended up at the Casino Royale with Oz and I. But the name we knew him by doesn’t have any substantial identity backing it...It’s no secret that Zai had enemies powerful and ruthless enough to send a ghost assassin after him. That’s what happened, if you asked me. He stepped on the wrong toes and paid for it.” Raven said. He took a long drag from his cigarette and tipped his head back to let the smoke out in a long line as he finished speaking.

            “I’ve heard rumors that Oz was involved somehow...” the clerk said quietly. “You’re saying they’re not true?

            Raven chuckled. “Oz and his father weren’t exactly close, but he’s nowhere near brutal enough to have him killed. Those are just media-driven rumors, I’m afraid,” he said with a shrug. He took one last deep inhale of smoke and extinguished the stub of his cigarette in the ashtray on the counter.

            “Well he’s certainly good at attracting those, isn’t he?” the newspaperman said with a chuckle. He tapped one finger on the front page of the top newspaper in the stack before him.

            Raven’s face fell instantly into open dismay. “What?” he asked flatly.

            “You haven’t seen the papers yet this morning?” the newspaperman asked.

            “No,” Raven said gravely. Terror mounted in him as the newspaperman extended the top paper in his stack. He took it gingerly, as though delaying it could somehow prevent whatever disaster Oz had stirred up overnight, and shook it to unfold the entire front page. His headache blazed back into poignant life and he reached compulsively for another cigarette as he took in the picture dominating at least half of the page.

            The grainy, slightly over-exposed image showed Oz with his hands in the air and a crowd of young and very obviously drunk people around him. He held a shot glass in one hand and a more than sizeable stack of euros in his other, both of which he had clearly been in the process of dropping as the photo was snapped. The crowd around Oz was blurred with movement and strobe lights blared in blinding patches of stark brilliance in the background, revealing an atmosphere flooded with the vibrant energy of a club. Raven’s eyes snapped to a hand sticking into the frame from the right. It was retreating from Oz’s back pocket holding both his wallet and the slim, black rectangle of a tracking device he always carried on him during Jackrabbit business. Raven’s heart sank further as he caught sight of Oz’s gold pocket-watch dangling _barely_ out of full view and the visible butt of a handgun protruding from beneath his jacket.

            Raven groaned and lifted a hand to his face. He ran it through his hair and slumped against the counter in utter defeat. “I’m going to kill him,” he growled under his breath. He tossed the newspaper onto the counter and looked back up at the clerk and newspaperman. “Where was this taken?” he asked in Spanish.

            “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. There are dozens of clubs in Buenos Aires and at least two thirds of them look like that,” the newspaperman replied with an apologetic and helpless shrug.

            Raven forced himself to relax his hand, which had clenched into a fist on the countertop. He turned back to the paper and scanned the article beneath the picture desperately for the name of a bar or club. When a cursory examination proved fruitless he looked back up at the image, praying fervently for a hint or clue as to Oz’s location when the photo was shot. _Back wall of the club. Nothing. No name on the dance floor. No words spelled out in the lights. Nothing on the shot glass dumbass is holding. No advertisements on the DJ’s booth._

            Raven’s finger and gaze screeched to a halt and adrenaline shot through him. His focus zeroed in on the figure of an impossibly pale and slightly flush-faced man with a familiar set of cherry-red eyes made bold and lustrous by the light around him stood amid a thick cluster of young men and women near the edge of the photo. He was holding a sizeable – and mostly empty – margarita glass and dressed utterly ridiculously in a set of short jean shorts and an obnoxiously bright red Hawaiian shirt. A crown of yellow flowers sat askew on his head and a cheap lei covered in rainbow flowers was tangled around his neck. _I should have known you were involved in this, Break...You do have a gift for making scenes_. Break’s slightly out-of-focus face was open in an expression of drunken outrage, the source of which was apparent as Raven followed his gaze across the photo to a figure almost obscured by one of Oz’s raised hands.

It was Liam, his head bent low to kiss a stranger with narrow hips, subtly muscular shoulders, and a shock of bleached white hair pierced into blinding ivory by a slash of the strobe lighting. The stranger’s features worked in perfect tandem with the dim lighting and the maroon T Shirt they were wearing to make them a rather convincing lookalike of Break. He barked a mostly dead laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and tossed the paper back onto the counter.

“Is everything alright?” the clerk asked, his brow furrowing in concern at the expression on Raven’s face.

Raven pushed himself off the counter and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “It will be.” He scrolled through his contacts and tapped one, then lifted his phone to his ear and started out of the store without a farewell or an explanation.

It rang three times before the line connected.

“Why if it isn’t featherhead! I was wondering how long it’d be before you called about your lost little lop ear.”

Raven stopped in his tracks at the sound of Liam’s voice ringing through the phone. A swell of deep happiness passed through him and he leaned back against the wall of a closed restaurant. “Liam,” he all but whispered, his voice slightly strained around an unexpected lump of tears in his throat.

“Raven? Where are you? Is everything alright?” Liam asked, his voice suddenly somber and fiercely protective.

A single tear glided down Raven’s cheek and he reached up to banish it with the back of one hand. He cleared his throat and stood up straight. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied in a more composed voice. “Excepting my lost little lop ear...Where the _hell_ are you?! Is Oz alright?”

A clattering bang from Liam’s end of the line cut off the first word of Liam’s response. “Hold on one second, Raven.” A moment of silence passed, then Liam shouted to someone. “So help me God, Oz, if you break our headboard trying to get out of that cuff I’ll kill you myself and save Raven the trouble!” A beat of silence passed and he spoke up to Raven again. “He’s fine. Hung over as hell and terrified of what you’re going to do to him when you get here, but alive and well.”

Raven let out a relieved breath. “Oh thank God. Where are you? What hotel are you staying in?” he asked eagerly.

            “The Pop Hotel. It’s near that massive park in the city center,” Liam replied. “Break’s just gotten out of bed. I’ll tell him to meet you on the street, alright?” Liam replied.

            “Yes,” Raven said, his attention already distracted as he turned onto a main street and began scouring it for a taxi. “Thank you, Liam. I-“ He cut himself off and smiled, happy realization welling up to fill chis chest. “I’ll see you soon.”

            “I’ll see you soon,” Liam returned in the same happy, glowing tone.

            The phone clicked into disconnected silence just as Raven spotted a cab. He raised a hand and the driver pulled over. He’d already blurted out the name of his destination and a plea for hurry by the time he was seated with his belt buckled. The driver, seeming to sense Raven’s hurry, sped off down a narrow street without comment. Raven’s foot tapped nervously throughout the drive and at least twice he caught himself reaching for the cigarette behind his ear.

            The instant the cab driver pulled onto a nondescript street and began to slow Raven’s attention darted out the window. He scanned the entrances to coffee shops and narrow alleys, his hands clenched into tight fists and his shoulders taut.

            They were halfway down the block when Raven spotted Break. He was walking down the street with his cane in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “Stop!” Raven called urgently to the driver. He jerked to a halt and stopped the meter, then turned to Raven for his payment. Raven hardly gave him a second glance, tossing a large bill from his wallet into the man’s hand and scrambling to get out of the taxi. “Keep the change!” he said with what he hoped was a good impression of a composed smile as he slammed the door.

            “Break!” Raven called as he stumbled from the cab onto the curb.

            Break turned on instant, his cane snapping to his side and his hair whipping into his face. He spotted Raven and his mouth turned up in a smile. “Raven!”

            Exhaustion, worry, and unspent fear flooded up in Raven as Break started towards him. His shoulders sagged and he finally gave into the urge to pull the cigarette free from behind his ear and twist it in his fingers. “Please dear God tell me you haven’t quit smoking since Monte Carlo,” he said tiredly as Break neared.

            Break put his cane beneath his arm and pulled a plastic lighter from his pocket as he approached. He stopped before Raven and extended it to him. “Not a chance.”

            Raven took the lighter and raised it in fumbling, slightly trembling fingers. His hands slipped as he attempted to strike it to life and he sighed in frustration.

            “Here, let me,” Break said. He took the lighter from Raven and struck it easily into life, then held it up for him. He studied Raven as he leaned forward and ignited his cigarette. “You must be exhausted.”

            Break’s proximity suddenly struck against Raven as he leaned down towards him. An unavoidable swell of uneasiness rose in him and he hurriedly leaned back on his heels and took a little step away. “Well I was out all night,” Raven said, a twinge of irritation creeping into his voice.

            Break tucked the lighter back into his pocket and dropped his cane back to his side. “Oz is upstairs...And so’s Liam. I know he’s excited to see you.” He turned and began to lead the way down the street towards a tall, shabbily elegant peach-colored building.

            “I’m excited to see him, too.” They reached the hotel’s front door and Break pressed a buzzer on the wall. A moment of silence stretched between them. “Are you two here working?” Raven asked through a cloud of exhaled smoke.

            “Yeah...” He looked up at Raven. “Not Jackrabbit. We figured that was a lost cause in Argentina.”

            “Good. After he put me through this nightmare Oz will be lucky if I do a day of work in the next _year_ ,” Raven grumbled.

            The door gave an electronic hum and Break pulled it open, revealing a long, narrow lobby and a set of steep stairs to their right. Raven tossed his cigarette butt into an ashtray and followed Break inside. Break gave a wave to the man at the front desk and began to lead the way up the stairs, his cane ticking a slow beat beside him. “So...How...have you been? You see the Vessalius Corporation in the papers just about once a week these days. You and Oz have certainly been keeping busy since Monte Carlo!” Break said with a slightly strained smile.

            “The company’s been good. I...I’ve been...alright,” Raven replied. “A lot’s changed.”

            “Since Zai died?” Break asked quietly. “Changed for the better, I hope.”

            “Isn’t that obvious?” Raven asked with a wry attempt at a laugh. “I shot my rapist through the head, so I’m free now. Isn’t that every victim’s dream?”

            Break halted and turned to look at Raven a few steps below him. A subtle, predatory grace crept up in him as he considered Raven, filling the air around him with an almost visceral shock of coldness. "You’re not free,” he said with a shake of his head.

            Raven stiffened. His right hand dropped instinctively into his pocket to finger a throwing knife there. “What are you talking about, Break?” he asked in a quiet, even growl.

            “I mean the world is full of cruel people. People who are far harder to kill than a stupid, impulsive brute like Zai Vessalius. And because of what happened to you you’re more susceptible to their cruelty.” Break’s eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned his weight against his cane. “Don’t forget that. If you do sooner or later you’ll find yourself back under someone’s control.”

            Raven blinked in shock and withdrew a step. “Are you trying to scare me?” he asked.

            Break shook his head and his face softened. “No. I’m trying to protect you. After his death Liam and I discovered that Zai was part of an organization called the Baskervilles. We know absolutely nothing about them except that they’re known for ruthless killings. And well-deserved as it was you killed one of their members. They could be hunting you,” he said.

            Raven froze. “Baskervilles...” he whispered in hollow horror.

            Break’s face shifted into immediate interest. “You know them?” he asked.

            “No,” Raven said. He forced anger into his voice to replace the fear and shook his head at Break. “And...And I don’t need _you_ of all people to protect me, Break.” A note of genuine, unspent anger crept into the phrase and he stiffened instantly.

            Break deflated. “Me of all people...” he echoed quietly.

            Raven bit his lip. “I...didn’t mean that...I just...I can’t...” he trailed off into useless, half-defeated silence.

            “I took you against your will in Haiti. You said yes but you didn’t mean it.” Break replied flatly. “And so now every time you look at me you can’t help seeing someone who hurt you.”

            A flicker of shame made Raven look down at his feet. “I’m sor-“

            “Don’t be.” Break said gently. He nodded and turned back up the stairs. “Let’s go. Liam’s going to be worried sick if we’re not up there soon.”

            Raven looked up helplessly after Break as he started off. He shifted to follow him and found himself frozen to the spot, the weight of a ceaseless question churning in his chest. “D-Did you know?” he asked shakily. Self-conscious regret swelled up in him as soon as the words were out.

            Break halted. “Know what?” he asked quietly.

            “M-My past...? In your mission report or any of the intel you’d gathered...Did any of it point to...to what I was...?” Raven asked.

            “No,” Break replied. “I didn’t know about your past. All I knew about you when we first met in Haiti was that you’re Jackrabbit’s Raven, and that that meant you’d have the information I needed...It sounds cold that way. I’m sorry...”

            Silence stretched between them once more. Silence borne on wings of distance and unfinished apology. Hurt bit through Raven and he looked down at his feet. His shoulders began to tremble and his palms to sweat. When he spoke his voice was thin and quiet for all that it remained steady. “You’re right, Break. I’m not free. I’m still as much a slave as I was the day Zai died. I’m a servant. And no matter what I do in the back of my mind I’m always looking for the next sir to please.”

            “And right now it’s me,” Break said with a tense sigh.

            “Yes. So...So please...be careful. Don’t...Don’t use it...” Raven whispered. The trembling in his hands intensified and his nails bit hard into his palms as he clenched his fists.

            “I’d never do something like that,” Break said with a shake of his head.

            Raven’s next words were out of his mouth before Break even finished speaking. “Wouldn’t you?” he breathed.

Break’s face shifted imperceptibly and lithe dangerousness drifted into his posture. “No, I wouldn’t.” he replied evenly.

Raven tore his gaze off the floor with a monumental effort of will and looked up into Break’s face. His mouth twisted up in a morbid smile. “Nobody else paid much attention to the piles of bodies you left behind in Monte Carlo or our Jackrabbit den in Haiti, but I did. You don’t just kill. You _murder_. And you do it easily, like someone with years of practice.”

            “I trained at MI-6. That’s years of practice right there. They’re not the only law enforcement agency that trains its soldiers to kill ruthlessly,” Break replied easily.

            “True...But do they train their agents to enjoy it?” Raven said pointedly.

            Break’s face remained as unmoving as ice as the accusation washed over him. He gave Raven a long, slow blink and then turned back to the stairs and began to climb. “We really should be going. You look like you could use some sleep,” he finally said.

            Raven watched Break walk a few steps, studying his back like his shoulder blades might unfold into the pages of his story. _I don’t know anything about you._ The realization came with a slow coil of anxiousness, which he did his best to quell as he lifted a heavy foot to follow Break up the stairs. _Calm down. You’re jumping at shadows. You’re exhausted and it’s making you paranoid._ A small smile danced up onto his lips. _Oz must be tired, too. You can take a nap together. Just draw the curtains and lie down with his head on your chest and relax. You’re almost there. You made it through the night. Make it just a little longer_.

            They reached a landing and walked down a short hall to a plain door. Break knocked and the handle turned from inside. Raven’s small smile grew into an immense grin as the door opened, revealing Liam just beyond. “Liam!” Raven cried.

            Liam threw the door open. “Raven!” He laughed as Raven threw himself through the door and straight into Liam’s arms. They hugged fiercely, both smiling.

            “God it’s good to see you,” Liam said as he squeezed Raven tight again.

            “You too,” Raven replied. He pulled away from Liam and steeled himself slightly, then whirled around to face Oz. His face melted from wrathful to tiredly disbelieving as he took in the sight of him lying half-dressed in the middle of the double bed with a simultaneously indignant and terrified expression on his face and one arm locked to the headboard by a silver handcuff. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” he said.

            “I’m sorry! I left the party and tried to call you but my phone was dead and when I tried to make one out of some shit outside an auto shop _Lottie Villars_ of all people came flouncing out of the alleyway and-“

            “Lottie?” Break asked, sudden interest piquing in his voice.

            A sharp jolt of emotion set Raven hurrying towards the side of the bed. He reached it and fell immediately on his side and despite Oz’s continual chatter gathered him instantly into his arms, pulling him tight and safe against his chest. “I don’t care,” he said softly. “It doesn’t matter. You’re safe.” He let out a long, steadying sigh. “You’re safe, Juniper.”

            Oz stiffened momentarily in surprise as Raven pressed against him, but the second Raven lifted a hand and began to stroke his hair that tension fled in place of pliable softness. He wiggled his free arm out from between he and Raven and dropped it around his waist. “I’m sorry I made you worry,” he whispered.

            “I forgive you. Just...don’t scare me like that again,” Raven plead.

            “I won’t. I promise,” Oz said with a nod.

            Raven heaved a sigh and sat up, though his fingers continued to card through Oz’s hair. “Where’s the key to the cuff?” he asked.

            “Here.” Liam strode across the room and handed off a small key ring to Raven. He paused beside the bed. “Oz...the woman you mentioned, Lottie...Does she-“

            “Liam, drop it,” Raven said sharply. “She’s a branch member of the Vessalius family. She and Oz are cousins.” _What can I say to make him stop asking questions?_ Raven looked away. “She always took after Zai...”

            Oz glanced up at Raven and read the need on his face instantly. He looked over at Liam as Raven reached up to unlock his cuff. “She has this creepy obsession with me. She always seems to turn up where Raven and I are...Just a fucked up family secret, nothing beyond that.”

            Liam retreated a few steps and looked between them. “I’m sorry I asked...” he said quietly.

            “It’s fine.” Raven unlocked the cuff and tugged Oz immediately into a sitting position. He fetched his shirt from the floor and tossed it to him. “Thank you for looking out for him,” he said with a grateful smile at Liam and Break.

            “Always...But keep a close eye on him from now on. Hunter and his lion are stalking around causing trouble,” Liam said.

            “And other dangerous people, it seems...” Break murmured as he tipped his head and leaned against his cane. “That organization I mentioned...We’re tracking a woman who goes by the name of Scarlet, who’s part of it. Ever heard of her, Oz? Apparently she’s yet another case of a rebellious teenage heiress with quite a bit of sway in the black market.”

            Oz took the moment necessary to shrug on his shirt to glance at Raven once again. His mouth curled up in a smirk. “Sure, I’ve heard of her. She’s Hunter’s rival and therefore my ally,” he said.

            “Any idea what she looks like? Or where she might be now?” Break asked. His eyes lit up in a mockery of surprise. “Oh! Maybe your cousin Lottie knows her? Seems like they’re about the same age and social class.”

            “If she does then I’ve never heard about it,” Oz replied with a chilly smile.

            “Hunter and Leo could tell you a lot more,” Raven said as he tugged Oz to his feet. “But it doesn’t seem like you’re on speaking terms.”

            Break waved a hand. “Well. That’ll change soon enough,” he said.

            Raven picked up the thread of conversation eagerly. “You’ve already got a plan to move on them?” he asked.

            “Tonight, if nothing changes. The unveiling gala for the fabulous purple diamond the whole world seems to be after is this evening. They’re sure to be there,” Liam said with a nod.

            “I have it on good authority that they will be,” Raven agreed. He looked over at Oz. “We’ll...be there ourselves. Can’t pass up the opportunity to see a scientific wonder like the world’s first natural purple diamond in person.”

            Liam laughed. “Not after it yourselves, are you?” he asked.

            Raven returned the laugh and shook his head. “ _No_ , we are not. So please keep us out of your line of fire, alright?”

            “We’ll keep that in mind,” Liam said with a smile. He watched Raven ushering Oz to the door with a look of mild confusion on his face. “Is everything alright, Raven?”  
            Raven looked briefly up at Break, who had he and Oz both pinned beneath a stare. “Fine. Fine. I’m just tired.” He managed a flicker of a smile at Liam.

            “We both are,” Oz followed. His hand dropped into Raven’s and gave it a squeeze.

            Liam considered them both, then stepped across the room and opened the door. “You should get some sleep then. We’ll see you tonight,” he said.

            “Y-Yeah...Thanks again.” Raven pushed Oz out into the hall and nodded once more to Liam. “See you later.” He stopped abruptly and turned. “And if you see any snipers on the roofs around the gala dump your plan. Once Leo has the high ground he’s entirely unstoppable.”

            “We’ll be safe,” Liam said with a nod.

            A moment of soft worry came over Raven and he gave Liam a small smile. “Please do.”

            “We will,” Liam assured him. He gave them both a final nod and closed the door.

            The second Liam and Break’s hotel room had vanished from sight Raven seized Oz’s hand in a tighter grip and began to drag him down the hallway. “Come on,” he growled.

            Oz gave a startled cry as Raven began to drag him. “They knew you were lying,” he said. “Both of them.”

            Raven offered no reply.

Oz persisted, trying another question to get him to speak. “I didn’t know you even stayed in touch with Liam and Break after Monte Carlo,” he said as they reached the stairs and began to descend towards the street.

            “Just Liam. We ran into each other about a month after and have been friends since then” Raven said.

            Oz skipped two stairs in a short jump to keep up with Raven. “Are Elliot and Leo really going to that gala tonight?” he asked.

            “Yes,” Raven replied as he shoved open the hotel’s front door.

            “Aren’t you worried he’s going to kill Liam and Break?” Oz asked as he picked up his pace to keep up with Raven’s.

            “No, I’m not,” Raven replied shortly.

            “Are you worried Liam and Break are going to kill him?” Oz said a little breathlessly as he took up a jog beside Raven.

            They emerged onto a more crowded main road and Raven came to an abrupt halt. He took his phone from his pocket and typed in the alternate passcode to activate Oz’s patented “safe mode”, designed to make calls virtually untraceable. He typed in Leo’s number by hand and brought the phone to his ear.

            Leo picked up on the 2nd ring, his voice groggy with sleepiness. “I didn’t even know you _could_ be awake at this hour...What’s going on?” he grumbled.

            “Leo, get up. _Now_. I found the people you warned me about and I know for a _fact_ that they’ll be tracing you and Elliot to the unveiling gala tonight. Lucky for you they’re about the easiest people in this whole damn city to spot. A tall, muscular Irishman with glasses who dresses like something out of a Charles Dickens novel and a short, sort of delicate-looking albino. Even if they’re in disguise he’ll be easy to pick out because he carries a cane with him everywhere he goes and walks like a practiced swordsman. I’ll be there tonight to help keep them off you,” Raven said quickly, his voice stoic and business-like.

            “Wait, what?” Leo asked in a clearer tone as he shifted in bed. “Tonight? I wasn’t even planning on going to that gala with Elliot. It turns out Elliot and I have some competition for the diamond he-“

            “This is more of a concern,” Raven insisted harshly. “Trust me, Leo.”

            “But it’s not just anyone. It’s Scarle-“

            “I don’t care. Elliot’s life is in immediate danger because of these people.” He looked over at Oz. “And so is Oz’s. They’re after him, too...And I can’t handle them both alone. Please, Leo.”

            Silence stirred deafeningly from the other end of the line as Leo considered the desperation and uncharacteristic fear in Raven’s voice. “Alright. I’ll start tracking them now. I’ll see you at the gala tonight.”

            “Thank you...” Raven said with a relieved exhale.

            “Practice rounds for the races start this afternoon, so I won’t have my phone. If you need me use the signal, alright?” Leo asked. His voice was already clear and sharp with full wakefulness and Raven could hear him moving around on the other side of the line, and the distinct clicks and snaps now and then that indicated he was assembling a rifle.

            Raven reached up and touched a gold ear cuff hanging in his left ear. “I will...” His eyes fell closed and he gripped his phone tight. “Thank you again, лев.”

            Leo audibly stilled on the other end of the line. A few seconds of tense silence followed. “You’re welcome, ворон.”

            The phone clicked as Leo disconnected. Raven’s eyes closed and his phone fell from his ear. The familiar intimacy of his Russian name washed over him, accompanied by a sense of safety. _You’re not in this alone. You have help. Nothing’s going to happen._ His stomach turned and Break’s foreboding words rose up and filled him with disquiet. _You’re not free..._ _Don’t forget that. If you do sooner or later you’ll find yourself back under someone’s control._

            “Now I’m not,” Raven said a little harshly down to Oz.

Oz jogged after Raven as he turned and set off down the street towards a busier area. “What the hell is going on?” he asked. “You lied to both of them. The second Liam mentioned Charlotte you panicked.” Oz reached out and grabbed Raven’s arm, tugging him to a stop. “Tell me what’s going on. The last time we kept secrets from each other it almost got us both killed. What are you scared of, Raven? Is it that organization Break mentioned? The Ba-”

“Don’t say their name. They might hear you,” Raven said, his gaze resolutely fixed ahead.

“Hear me...?” Oz echoed in chilled disbelief. “How...?”

Raven’s voice began to tremble. “I don’t know. But they a-always hear...” he whispered. “I...I know that group. Or I knew one of them. A man who went by a moniker with that word in it. The Wolf of the-“ Raven’s voice dropped to a shallow whisper. “Baskervilles. I knew him when I was a child, before we left the Manor. He was cruel and cunning and _evil_ , and the fiercest fighter I’ve ever met.”

Coldness crept up Oz’s spine. “You were a child then...Now, surely, he couldn’t...couldn’t hurt you anymore, right?” he asked.

“He could hurt anyone he wanted to,” Raven whispered. “That’s why I lied to Liam and Leo...to...to get them in the same place. That way if Charlotte attacks they'll be able to fight her off together."

Oz hesitated. "...You really think it would take all three of them to take down  _one_  person? Leo could kill a fly from 500 yards away and Liam and Break are nothing short of lethal," he said.

"If that enemy carries that name then yes. I don't know exactly what it means or who it belongs to, but I know it's  _dangerous_. Trust me, Oz. The Baskervilles...” He took a shuddering breath. "If they're all like their Wolf then...then even the three of them might not be enough. Charlotte's already insane enough. If she's one of them, too..." his voice trailed off. 

Oz shook his head in confusion. “No, that can’t be...Raven, you’re not making any sense. Charlotte has a last name. It’s-“

“Villars. I know. Zai had a last name, too. And he was involved with them,” Raven said pointedly. He took a shuddering breath. “That Wolf I mentioned before...he had a master. I never met him or knew who he was, but there was someone. If Charlotte’s like that, or like Zai, then she’s just a puppet who provides financial support or gets government officials to look the other way for the price of...of having someone cruel at her disposal.”

Oz hovered in uncertain silence for a second. “Someone cruel? Then...it’s not Charlotte you’re worried about...?” he asked quietly.

Raven turned to Oz and watched stark unsettlement and understanding fall over him. “No...It’s Lily.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I swear to God, Break, if you find a way to fuck this up I’ll throttle you,” Liam growled as they turned down the street a block ahead of the restaurant that was their destination.

“Oh, Liam. You worry too much,” Break said with a flippant wave of his hand. “Besides, when have I ever fucked something up?” Liam opened his mouth. “Beyond repair,” he amended hurriedly.

Liam let his mouth fall closed and let out a frustrated breath. “I wish you’d come in a disguise,” he grumbled as he turned to consider Break’s dark charcoal-grey suit.

Break gave him a simpering smile. “We’re among the rich and famous, silly. A restaurant known to be Elliot Nightray’s favorite in Buenos Aires is bound to have a strict dress code. I _am_ in disguise,” he said with a grin.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. He and Break came to a halt in the street and he pointed a strict finger at him. “You listen to me, Xerxes Break. We’re here tonight to watch and observe and spot Leo and Hunter so we can tail them to the gala. We are _not_ here to make a scene,” he growled.

Break put his hands up in surrender. “Yes, yes, Mr. Big Scary 001. Understood,” he replied wit ha roll of his eyes.

“And don’t fall for any tricks, either!” Liam continued. “Elliot Nightray’s far more careful about concealing his black market identity than Oz. He may have defenses in place.”

Break put his hands on his hips and rounded on Liam. “I am well aware of that, Liam. And don’t act like _you’ve_ never fallen for any espionage tricks yourself!” he huffed.

“I was undercover in one of the highest-security locations on the planet for _five years_ without being discovered! I know every trick in the book and can see through every one of them in a heartbeat,” Liam replied firmly.

Break gave him a flat look. “Well. _Well_. Then I see no reason why I shouldn’t just go in there and make a scene and let you handle the observation part of this by yourself since apparently I’m all but useless,” he quipped. Before Liam could get another word in edgewise Break turned on his heel and trotted off down the street towards the restaurant’s main entrance.

Liam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Drama queen,” he grumbled.

He turned and leaned his back against the alley wall as Break disappeared from view. A glance at his watch revealed it to be 8:25 pm and he nodded in satisfaction. _Five minutes to spare_. He took the time to roll the cuffs of the crisp white dress shirt he wore up to his elbows, remove his glasses to clean them, and run his fingers through his combed-back hair. Once the small rituals were complete he glanced at his watch again. Only a minute had passed. He began to tap his foot on the cobblestone alley floor and to whistle absent melodies to himself as he waited.

He was in the middle of a phrase when, at 8:31 exactly, a man approached from the end of the alleyway. He was dressed similarly to Liam and staring intently down at his phone but clearly heading for the nearby side door of the restaurant around the corner. Still whistling, Liam pushed himself off the wall and made his way towards the man in long, even strides.

They passed each other about two thirds of the way to the door, and Liam stuck out a foot. The man tripped over it and gave a cry, the end of which was silenced as Liam grabbed him around the neck and dragged him into a bar hold. The man choked and spluttered, then went limp in a few short seconds as Liam’s hold choked the air from him. Liam took him below the elbows and dragged him down a nearby side-street, where he laid him on his back. He unbuttoned the dark blue vest the man wore and pulled it somewhat awkwardly from him, then shrugged it on himself. A check of the pocket revealed a fob for the locked door leading to the kitchens and a small, indistinct silver key. Liam pocketed both and stood, adjusting his vest and giving the man an apologetic salute as he turned.

He jogged back across the alleyway and passed the key fob in front of the sensor near the door’s lock. It beeped and flashed green and Liam pulled it open. The kitchen smells he’d become familiar with in his time at Monte Carlo rose up around him and he couldn’t help a small smile. _If nothing else it’s a chance to be back behind the bar..._ He passed an employee in a waiter’s uniform and gave him a nod. The man nodded back without question. _Too busy themselves to notice an unfamiliar bartender,_ he thought with satisfaction.

He passed through the double doors into the restaurant and made his way to the bar quickly and efficiently. He straightened his lapels as he surveyed his tools and nodded in satisfaction.

“Excuse me...,I’d like to by a drink for a lady,” a familiar, jovially smug voice said from behind him.

Liam turned, all the fire of hell momentarily in his eyes, and looked up at Break. “What drink, sir?” he asked icily. “And what lady?”

Break’s mouth curled up into a shit-eating grin. “That one,” he said, nodding to a gorgeous, foreign-looking woman with dark hair and a round face. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Liam’s eyes flicked back to Break. “Too beautiful for you,” he quipped. He cleared his throat and slipped back into professionalism. “What drink, sir?”

“Black Velvet for the lady. A Stinger for me,” Break replied. He leaned an elbow on the bar. “Should I buy you a drink, too? It worked in my favor back in Montenegro...” he teased.

“No, you should not. At least one of us has got to be sober while we’re _working_ ,” Liam growled. He turned from Break and pulled a tall champagne flute from a hanging bar above him and a Collins glass from a line of them below. He mixed the drinks efficiently and without flourish and handed them back to Break across the bar. “ _Focus,_ ” he reminded him in an urgent murmur.

“I am!” Break hissed back as he took the drinks and turned away from the bar. He paused and turned back on the pretense of taking a napkin. “You too...You’re exposed and isolated up here,” he said quietly.

Liam gave him a smirk. “Careful, it almost sounds like you’re worrying about me,” he returned as he set about cutting up a few more oranges for drink garnishes.

Break narrowed his eyes, far more in jest than genuine wrath. “You should be so lucky. After that little stunt you pulled with that white-haired piece of garbage last night you should be glad I haven’t shot you myself yet,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I’m just playing by your rules, bonnie. Open relationship and all,” Liam said with a small shrug. “Now get along. Your lady’s drink’s supposed to be served cold.”

Break nodded. He turned on his heel once more and made his way back to the woman he’d been sitting with.

Liam finished with the oranges and accepted a lengthy drink order from a passing waiter. He began to mix the cocktails, his expert hands working on their own and his eyes subtly tracing every face in the place, searching for signs of Leo or Hunter. They were drawn inexorably to the woman across from Break as she leaned across the space between them to place her hand on his knee. _Damn, she certainly is beautiful..._ He caught himself staring and shook his head. His eyes returned to their casual wandering as he finished another drink. _No. Focus. It’s the sniper who could kill you in a heartbeat you’re after, not a pretty skirt in a bar. Leo’s cold and cool and lethal, not enchanting and subtle and glowing..._ He caught himself staring once more and shook his head hard, forcing himself to turn and look in a completely different direction to keep that magnetically attractive face from distracting him further.

_At least if Hunter does show up he’ll be too busy staring at her to do much in the way of protecting himself,_ Liam thought with a roll of his eyes. “Women...” he huffed. “Always keeping us distracted...”

 

* * *

 

            Break returned to his seat, cocktails in hand and a smile on his face. He set his own on the small, circular table but held the other back. “I’m afraid there’s a small price to pay for this, miss,” he flirted.

            The woman shook her head. “Isn’t there always? What is it?” she asked.

            “Just your name,” Break returned with a smile.

            She echoed his expression, her full, shimmering lips parting around small, perfect teeth. “Lacie,” she said. “Lacie L’Vitsa. I know the name’s a bit hard to pronounce. It’s Russian, like me.”

            Break handed over her cocktail and picked up his own drink. “Miss L’Vitsa...” he said with a half-nod. “Pleasure to meet you.” He leaned back in his chair and swirled Liam’s artfully created cocktail in his glass before taking a sip.

He leaned back in his chair and loosened the rich silvery-grey tie around his throat. “I confess you’ve got me quite enchanted...” he said, offering up his glass for another toast. “And I’m honored a woman as rare and beautiful as yourself would condescend to share a drink with me.”

Break allowed himself another slow look up and down Lacie’s figure as she giggled and took a sip of her drink. She really was flawlessly gorgeous. Her long, dark hair slanted in effortless rivulets down past her shoulders, layered bangs framing a narrow face with a small nose, delicate lips, and round, almost supernaturally large eyes that flickered in alluring shades of violet-brown and hazel-gold. Her high cheekbones were rich with soft blush, and her lips a perfect bow of bright red, while the lids of her eyes drooped low with dark, lustrous eyeshadow.

The dress she wore was hardly modest, a long, drapey thing in a half-sheer satin that spilled about the seat beside her in royal violet to complement her eyes. One side of the skirt was slit almost all the way up her thigh, and as she leaned forward and crossed her legs it fell tantalizingly open.

She rested her chin in a hand hidden beneath a long white glove and gave Break a half-suggestive smile. “I’ve told you my name...Tell me yours.”

The commanding nature of Lacie’s tone set Break’s blood stirring. He took another sip of his drink. “Maddon Kent...It’s English, like me,” he teased with a wink.

Lacie laughed and leaned further forward. The movement exposed more of her leg and attracted Break’s attention instantly. “You’re a charming man, Mr. Kent,” she purred.

Break’s attention flickered away from Lacie’s legs to her wrist as something on it glittered. It was a large bracelet in silver and bright diamonds, which curled about her thin wrist in the shape of a clawed scorpion. He nodded to it. “That’s a beautiful bracelet,” he said.

Lacie turned her wrist to examine the bracelet. “The scorpion? Yes, I rather like them. They’re one of nature’s finest killers, you know.”

“So I’ve heard...As the diamond is one of nature’s finest stones,” Break said with a nod to the bracelet.

“Certainly a point on which we can agree,” Lacie said, letting her hand drift to an ornate diamond choker she wore.

“Is that what brings you to Buenos Aires, then?” Break asked. “You don’t seem one for the sport of racecar driving.”

Lacie smiled coyly. “More so than you’d think. What about yourself?”

“Yes, well, I was here to get a look at that purple diamond the whole world’s buzzing about...but I think it’ll seem dull compared to the one in front of me...” he crooned.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Mr. Kent,” Lacie chided softly. But still her foot slid out and began to caress Break’s calf, the glittering crystals on the strappy silver heels she wore traveling tantalizingly up and down his leg.

            “My apologies,” Break said with a smile. He lifted his glass to his lips, using the cover of taking a sip of it to survey the extravagant bar for any signs of Leo and Hunter. He caught sight of Liam behind the bar looking around similarly and they shared a momentary glance. Break lowered his glass and returned his attention to Lacie.

            She turned to look behind her, having noticed Break’s distraction. Her eyes lingered momentarily on Liam before she turned back around. “Expecting someone?” she asked.

            “No, I’m not. Just enjoying the view,” Break replied with a smile.

            Lacie tipped her head. “Now are you going to tell me there’s nothing in the room to compare to your view of me?” she asked with a little sigh.

            “You’ve already told me flattery won’t get me anywhere, so what’s the point in that?” Break asked with a shrug.

            Lacie’s hand slipped out and landed on Break’s knee beside the table once more. The sparkle of her diamond bracelet settled on his thigh and the twin glitter of the crystals shimmering along a matching pair of high, strappy heels on his ankle as she touched him. “Do you think we’ve met before, Mr. Kent? You look rather familiar to me...” she asked. She gave a little laugh and shook her head. “I’m embarrassed to confess it but I’m a bit of a spiritualist...Tarot cards and astrology and the like. Maybe it’s just one of my little feelings.”

            Break finished the last sip of his drink before replying. “Maybe you saw a ghost that looked like me?” he joked. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s thought I was a ghost.”

            “No, no, I’m fairly certain it was a man I knew. Hmmm...” She turned her face away and lowered her hands into her lap. “Who was it? Oh! That’s right!” A spark of brightness came into her eyes as she turned back to Break. One of her hands lifted from her lap and she placed a pair of perfectly round spectacles on her nose and let her sultry smile fall into a more cutting, stoic one. The put-on glamor fell from her voice and when she spoke again it was lower, more lilting, and far more heavily accented. “It was an ex-MI-6 agent by the name of Xerxes Break.”

Break’s world didn’t even have time to screech to a halt before Lacie’s other hand shot up from her lap with a gun in it, which she pointed dead at the center of Break’s chest. _Oh fuck!_ The thought screamed through Break’s brain and inspired movement solely based on his instincts and training. He launched himself away from the table, grabbing his cane and taking a swing at Lacie as he tripped backwards away from her. “Liam!” He shouted over his shoulder.

Liam had already begun to move, swinging easily over the bar with one hand and using his other to pull a gun from a holster on his calf. He fired a shot into the ceiling above the bar, shattering glasses and setting the crowd not already panicking into a screaming hustle to get away.

The swarm and hustle of brightly colored evening gown and suits provided the momentary separation from Lacie Break needed to somersault backwards onto his feet. He spun and dodged through the crowd until he met up with Liam in the middle of the room.

“Idiot! How did you not realize that was a disguise?!” Liam screamed at him over the sounds of shouting and breaking glass.

“I thought you could see through every trick in the book!” Break fired back.

“And I thought _you_ weren’t going to fuck this up!” Liam retorted.

Lacie emerged from the crush of the crowd and leaped up onto the table with a swirl of her skirt. She planted her feet and raised her handgun, aiming across the bar at Liam and Break and firing two incredibly confident shots in a row.

Liam threw Break aside and dodged out of the way himself, taking a shot as he somersaulted to the floor. It went wide, far wider than their attacker’s shots had. “Get around her!” Liam ordered as he rolled to his knees and raised his gun again.

Break rolled further than Liam and cartwheeled back to his feet. By the time he’d made it that far Lacie was already halfway across the bar, running at full tilt towards Liam despite her heels, her violet eyes hard behind her spectacles.

Break took a long step forward then dropped to his knees and caught Lacie with a violent leg sweep as she passed. She stumbled, but in a stunning show of grace and agility turned it into a graceful cartwheel. Her skirt whipped Break in the face as she passed and he jolted aside in momentary blindness. She turned in the midst of her cartwheel, lashing out with one of her pointed heels aimed at Break’ face.

He caught her leg beneath his arm and twisted her to the floor, pinning her with one hand. His cane had clattered to the floor beside him, but he barely had time to reach out before Lacie’s gun jerked up behind her to point at his chest. Break gave a cry of surprise and somersaulted over her and out of the way just in time to avoid a shot that went through the ceiling instead.

Liam leaped over Break to reach Lacie, who was already on her feet again. He spared no time to consider her or give her time to raise her weapon before he’d spun in place and lifted his leg in a vicious hook kick. His longer reach and greater strength worked in his favor and his heel collided with Lacie’s ribcage, sending her stumbling once more.

Break was already in position and when Lacie tripped he raised his cane and smacked her hard across the backs of her knees. The combination of forces dropped her instantly. Liam snapped out another kick as she fell, which sent Lacie’s gun skittering across the floor. Liam dropped over her as she sprawled onto her side and pulled her onto her back. He pinned her legs with his and locked one hand around her throat hard enough that if she moved it would prevent breathing.

Break stood over them, his cane sparkling in the form of a silver sword and held at the ready to attack. He’d retrieved Lacie’s handgun, too, and held it pointed at her head from above.

“What’s your name?” Liam asked sharply.

“Do you really have to ask?” Lacie grated out.

“Leo.” Liam said, his voice dripping with honeyed hatred. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His hand tightened around Leo’s throat. “I’m sorry our acquaintance won’t last longer.”

Leo croaked out a laugh despite the pressure of Leo’s hand. “You won’t kill me,” he said.

Liam reached up with his free hand and seized the gun from Break. He cocked the hammer and brought it to Leo’s temple. “Try me,” he hissed.

Leo’s mouth curled up in a dark impression of Lacie’s formerly sweet and sensual smile. “I have protection...One of nature’s finest killers,” he said, his gaze flickering to the floor beside him.

Break gasped as he followed Leo’s gaze and caught sight of the scorpion-shaped diamond bracelet he’d worn as Lacie. Its pincers were blinking red and its stinger had been twisted off to reveal a button beneath. As he watched the light went solid red and a tinny beep went up from the bracelet. “Liam, look out!” Break cried. He grabbed Liam hard by the collar and hauled him back as best he could as he turned and began to run.

“Fuck!” Liam shouted as Break dragged him back. He jumped away from the woman and to his feet, overtaking Break and grabbing him by the wrist to speed up his progress.

They tore out onto the street and tumbled across it, tearing away from the doomed restaurant with bare seconds to spare. Liam threw himself over the hood of a parked car and flattened himself to the ground behind it, with Break toppling down beside him half a second later. He opened his eyes and watched the restaurant through the small crack between the car’s bottom and the curb. The bomb went off with a thundering crash, shattering the restaurant’s windows, jettisoning debris in all directions, and setting off car alarms up and down the street.

Smoke and fire settled as the initial explosion passed, and a moment of silence settled. Liam’s eyes narrowed as Leo emerged through the flames, still sauntering down the street in his heels, his makeup impeccable and his hair utterly flawless. He paused and reached up beneath his dress where a cheap cellphone was hidden. He dialed a number and put it up to his ear, holding it carefully away from his cheek to avoid ruining his foundation.

Liam held his breath and clapped a hand over Break’s mouth as Leo approached, unaware of their proximity. Leo stopped in the street and smiled as his call connected. “Hello? Yes, I’m fine. And you were right about those agents. Already here.”

Leo reached the end of the street and halted beside a beautiful black racing motorcycle. He held the phone against his shoulder as he popped open the compartment on the bike’s seat and removed a slick black helmet. He slipped out of his heels and deposited them there, then laughed at something on the other end of the line. “Are you kidding me? Of _course_ they fell for it. Everyone does.”

He slid onto the motorcycle’s seat as he waited for the next reply, adjusting his skirt so it wouldn’t hinder his driving. “...Well yeah, but unfortunately that restaurant you love near the city center paid the price. They got away this time, but they won’t again.”

Leo inserted the bike’s key, pulled from some other pocket on his dress, and revved its engine to get it started. “I’m on my way to the gala now. Do you want me there as Glen or Lacie?” He chuckled. “Fair enough. I think this dress is very flattering, too...Bring me a bracelet from the room though, will you? A diamond one to replace the scorpion.”

He scanned the street once more as the person on the other end of the line responded. “Thanks...And no, I’m not worried about it. To be honest I’m starting to believe Scarlet isn’t even here. She’s so flashy that you know she’ll do something ornate to get your attention if she is. And if that happens we’ll take care of her...Lily? No, that little dog only barks when she’s told and goes where her mistress tells her. Until we see Scarlet we won’t see her. Just get to the gala, okay...Yes, I’ll get rid of it. Alright. Bye, Elliot.”

Leo scanned the street once more, his eyes glittering behind his glasses. Satisfied with its emptiness he pulled his hair back into a tight ponytail and slipped the helmet over his head, then tossed the phone onto the street in front of him. He kicked out the bike’s stand and took off down the street, destroying the phone with a solid crunch as he ran over it.

            Liam sat up and released Break as Leo vanished into the dark. “Shit,” he growled. “Come on, we have to get to that gala. If we can beat him there then Hunter will be unguarded.”

            Break jumped to his feet and returned his cane to its covert form. “Let’s go. We can’t waste a chance like this.” _Not after both of us fell for such an obvious trick..._ he muttered in his head.

            Liam walked around the car they’d hidden behind, knelt by the driver’s door, and removed his glasses. He slid the frame apart until a tiny pocket within revealed two long, thin metal rods. He replaced his glasses and studied the car door’s lock, then finessed the lock picks into it and twisted them. The lock slid and clicked open on the first try and Liam tucked the picks into his pocket then pulled the car door open. Its alarm began to sound, but he dropped inside and tugged a massive clump of wires from beneath the steering wheel. It was hardly elegant or practical, but the car’s alarm stopped instantly.

            “Get in,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

            Break yanked on the dented and slightly rusted passenger side door and slid into the car. “Is this thing really fast enough to beat a _racing bike_?” he asked incredulously.

            Liam reached behind the steering column and felt around until he found a large knob. He shoved it hard and the car jerked to slightly unhealthy, coughing life. _God bless these old models,_ he thought to himself. He settled his hands on the steering wheel and turned to Break. “If I’m the one driving, absolutely.”

 

 

            Leo leaned hard and whizzed around the side of a building into a narrow alleyway. He twisted the bike’s handlebar and the engine kicked up a notch, sending him flying down the narrow street at almost 100 miles per hour. His breath was even and confident behind his helmet and his shoulders relaxed.

            A prickle of irritation crept through his thoughts. “Lost my best close-range gun,” he grumbled to himself as he slid around another corner. “And one of the best wine cellars in this country. Damn vigilantes...” he cursed.

            He slowed as the tangle of alleyways he was using as a back route to avoid suspicion and notice narrowed and grew more thoroughly cluttered with garbage and puddles. _If I stain this dress I’m going to shoot someone._ His eyes narrowed. _Oh, that’s right. I_ can’t. _Minus the rifle hidden on my bike I’m unarmed...What an awful feeling. How does everyone else manage it?_

            He swerved around a dumpster in the middle of the street, then set himself back on course. His eyes began to wander to the rooftops and dark doorways and his hands clenched tighter on the handlebars. _I’m fine. There’s nobody here. Those agents have been scared off for a while by that explosion. The most dangerous person in the city’s Raven and he’s not exactly going to hurt me._

            The seed of unsettlement grew into a roiling weed in the pit of Leo’s stomach and his jaw clenched. _I’ll just check...Just to make sure. We haven’t seen any sign of Scarlet or Lily yet...but this feeling..._

            He slowed to a stop as he came around another corner. The second his bike halted he kicked down the kickstand and slid from the seat. He tugged on a piece of plastic on the bike’s side and it came free, revealing a disassembled rifle behind it.

            The pieces of the gun came together as naturally as breathing as Leo slipped across the street, spider-like as he crept to the corner he’d just turned, which was choked with darkness. He settled on his heels, still careful to avoid staining his dress, and rested the rifle against his shoulder. He popped open his helmet’s visor and took a deep breath, then removed his glasses.

            At first nothing changed. But after another steadying moment Leo closed his eyes and held them that way for a long moment. He moved his eyes in slow circles behind his closed lids, alternating clockwise and counterclockwise.

            This time when he opened them everything had shifted. Threads of harsh gold cut across his vision, making everything appear fractured and sharp. Every tiny detail became clear to him the instant he looked its direction. Dirt smudges on the walls, rat footprints in mud, even fingerprints on the glass windows. He looked up at the rooftops and found them just as clear, every grain of granite in the mortar between bricks separated and each star in the half-clouded sky a pinprick of individual brilliance.

            His gaze fell into the alleyway and he braced his rifle against his shoulder as he scanned it. Darkness was as easily overpowered as distance, and each corner of the night-shrouded alleys around him became brilliantly clear as he studied them. _Garbage...Garbage...More garbage...A drainpipe...A mouse...A pebble...Nothing._ His head jerked back to a flicker of movement, but his finger relaxed on the trigger of his ready rifle as he was met with only a beetle crawling its way along between bags of trash. He let out a relieved breath and shook his head. _See? Nothing. I’m just scaring myself_.

            He lowered his rifle and made to stand.

            But something stopped him.

            A thin arm slipped out of the darkness and traced around his throat like a heavy necklace. Long, curling, claw-like nails pricked at his skin as he inhaled a sharp breath. His hands tightened on his rifle and his jaw clenched. _She’s so flashy that you know she’ll do something ornate to get your attention._ Leo swallowed. _...Lily? No, that little dog only barks when she’s told and goes where her mistress tells her._

            A set of sharp teeth pricking at the back of his neck made Leo’s blood run cold. The hissing voice, half a giddy laugh and half a harsh scream that followed made his stomach drop.

            “You forgot to look behind you...”

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,  
> So, so sorry for the long absence. School started up again and I've been wildly busy. Hopefully this incredibly long chapter makes up for the time away!
> 
> The chapter begins with a non plot-important explicit sex scene between Oz and Raven. If that isn't your cup of tea skip to the first line indicating a scene break. The story carries on from there.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are a few for this chapter aside from the aforementioned explicit scene.   
> Graphic violence  
> Explicit language  
> Purposeful triggering of anxiety issues 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys. Happy Sunday!

           

            Oz yawned and his eyes fluttered open. He let out his breath in a relieved whoosh as he took in the curtains of the hotel room he and Raven were staying in. They were drawn against the afternoon light, but rays echoed through a small crack in the middle of them anyway. He lifted a hand to touch one, savoring the feeling of the warmth on his skin. He watched in fascination as dust motes skittered and eddied around his fingers, stirred like swallows in an updraft as they tossed and swam through the sunlight.

            Oz grumbled with mild dissatisfaction as a cool gust from the air conditioner above made him shiver. He turned his head down towards the bed and was hardly surprised to find only the sheets covering him. The soft down comforter and thick duvet, meanwhile, were piled and wrapped about Raven’s sleeping form on the other side of the bed.

            “Blanket hog,” Oz murmured harmlessly. He reached out a hand to pull the blankets back over himself, but found he didn’t quite have the heart to complete the gesture.

            He turned over in bed to study Raven, allowing his eyes the luxury of a slow course over his face and shoulders, left exposed by the way he was sleeping. The movement stirred Raven, but didn’t wake him. He rolled onto his stomach and one of his arms looped beneath his pillow to support his head.

            The position left the sharp edges of Raven’s intricate tattoos visible, and Oz found himself unable to resist reaching out and setting a gentle hand atop them. He began to trace the outlines of the inked feathers with the pads of two fingers, watching Raven’s face for shifts that might indicate waking as he did. But none came. The lines of worry and upset that so often set wrinkles skating along Raven’s sloping forehead were absent now. A loose ringlet had fallen free of the messy ponytail Raven always pulled his hair into to sleep and Oz’s free hand rose on habit to tuck it behind his ear. His hand lingered there for a second and then retreated. Deep, untroubled sleep, he knew, was a rare blessing for Raven.

            He turned over his shoulder to check the time on the elegant Swiss clock perched beside the bed. Its hands draped casually over the time, noting it as 5:40 in the subtle curve of black metal and bright gold filigree. Oz smiled. _Another four hours until the gala._ Another thought followed and wiped the tender, golden expression from his face. _Then all these moving pieces start coming together. Break and Liam, Leo and Elliot, Charlotte and Lily, the Baskervilles..._ He looked back at Raven. _It’s not our problem. We could always go._ A remembered image of the joy and unapologetic weakness that had come over Raven when he’d hugged Liam earlier that day shut the thought off instantly. As rare as the blessing of deep sleep was for Raven the luxury of feeling protected and safe was far rarer. One Oz staunchly refused to deny him.

            Bored now that sleepiness and the possibility of waking Raven had flickered away, Oz glanced around then picked up his phone off the bedside table and clicked the home button. A resolutely black screen served as a grim reminder of its lifelessness. He looked around the room, his eyes alighting on the lamp beside the bed, the clock, and a tall fan near the door to the balcony. _I could make a charger out of this stuff..._ He glanced at Raven. _But not while he’s asleep. He’d kill me if I woke him up._ He tossed his phone onto the foot of the bed and sat up, then shifted quietly to his feet without disturbing Raven or his pile of blankets.

            The tile floor was cool beneath his feet as he padded around the room, first to his suitcase to fetch a T shirt and then into the expansive bathroom. He closed the sliding door and flipped on the lights, revealing a serene space all in white marble tiling and slick granite. A large mirror ran the length of the wall across from the door, and Oz studied himself as he walked towards it. _More like my father every day..._ A sharp set of images clattered to life in Oz’s head, first of Zai beating and threatening Liam and then, more hideously, of his face bent in sick pleasure as he held Raven beneath him on the hotel bed in Monte Carlo. His stomach turned. He deposited the T shirt on the counter and put both hands in his hair, tousling it into an exaggerated version of the attractive mess that made up his normal hairstyle. He dropped his hands and looked himself in the eyes once more, searching for separations between what he saw and the man his father had been.

            A few seconds of hovering silence produced nothing new. A set of shoulders that were just as strong but more graceful than his father’s had been. Narrower hips but the same way of walking. Hands with longer fingers but the same habit of curling into loose fists in moments of even mild irritation. An identical face but for a short beard and slicked-back blond hair. Eyes a little rounder and wider, but boiling the same almost supernatural emerald. But those minimal distinctions all paled in comparison to the overwhelming, haunting parallels.

Oz bit his lip. He hesitated, then leaned heavily against the bathroom counter and hung his head, gathering himself. He took a deep breath and looked back up with his brightest smile on his lips. It tipped his cheeks up into roundness akin to a child’s and set his eyes glowing. His grin grew wider and more genuine, and as it did a dimple appeared near the right-hand corner of his mouth.

“There,” he murmured. “There I am.”

The smile remained as he turned from the mirror and walked across the bathroom to the large rainfall shower built into an alcove on the wall adjacent to the mirror and separated from the rest of the bathroom by floor-to-ceiling glass panels. He opened the door and turned the water on, then retreated long enough to brush his teeth and slip out of his pajama bottoms. By the time he returned to the shower it had grown hot enough that the glass wall was covered with steam, which heaved outwards toward him in a billowing exhale as he opened the door and stepped inside.

He closed the door behind himself and stepped beneath the water. It coursed evenly over his skin and ran in rivulets through his hair, soaking it in seconds. He sighed in deep satisfaction and tipped his head back to let it run over his face, too. He remained stationary for a few seconds, then sank slowly into a sitting position, eyes closed, head tipped back, arms wrapped loosely around his knees, and feet extended so the water continued to hit them.

For almost a minute Oz fooled himself into thinking about work, running over product lineups for the next several months and considering possible solutions to a problem concerning fuel coolant in a deep space rocket he’d helped design. But inevitably the crowd of insistent, needy thoughts slipped away to be replaced by half-formed daydreams and the melody of a song stuck in his head. His foot began to tap, splashing softly in the water pooled near the drain, and almost without realizing it Oz began to sing softly to himself.

“Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful…I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will…”

The drifting melody, half sung and half hummed, filled the space around him like smoke, colluding with the steam fluttering about the shower to create an airborne tide akin to the drift of snowfall. One song led lazily to another, but the solitary concert was inevitably drawn to that same chorus again and again, accompanied each time by a slight feather of anxious hurt. The thought of an unspecific someday when his hair would begin to grey and his eyes to wrinkle at the corners in a perfect imitation of his father’s cut him deep and hard. Harder still was imagining a half-perceptible tension coming over Raven’s face on that day and remaining there, stagnant and sad, for the rest of their lives. _I couldn’t ask Raven to love the face of the man who raped him for fifteen years..._

A tide of coolness swept over Oz and steam whooshed from the shower in a sagging exhale as the door was pulled open. Oz looked up at Raven, who stood half-clothed in the doorway, his hair rumpled and his eyes heavy-lidded with recent waking. “Hi...” he said with a sleepy smile.

“Hi sleepyhead. I hope I didn’t wake you,” Oz returned.

Raven shook his head. “No. I’ve just been lying in bed listening to you sing. You have such a beautiful voice.” The admission would normally set Raven blushing and stammering out a recovery, but this half-asleep state lent him the confidence to let the statement hang between them.  

“Thank you,” Oz said with a smile.

Raven’s hair left dancing, abstract lines of clarity on the fogged over glass as he tipped his head and leaned the side of it against the door. Oz watched as Raven’s gaze slid up and down the lines of his body, his eyes gold as lighthouse beacons amid the rolling steam. “May I join you?” he asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Of course,” Oz replied instantly, only aware of the slightly eager bent to his voice after the words were out. Raven took a step forward and he laughed and raised a hand. “Wait! You’re still dressed, silly.”

“Oh,” Raven said in genuine surprise. He looked down at himself and stepped momentarily away from the door to shed his pants and underwear.

“You’ve always been the deepest sleeper,” Oz teased as Raven entered the shower and sank into a sitting position across from him.

Raven hummed in agreement. “Papa always used to say I slept like someone was paying me for it, remember?” he asked.

Oz laughed. “I do...Maybe if I can get the company’s COO on board we can find a way to work sleeping into your salary...” he teased.

Raven chuckled. “As the company’s COO I approve that decision,” he said with a nod.

Oz looked up from his hands to find Raven watching him. He returned the stare with one of his own, his mouth bent in a soft, happy crescent and his face open and gentle. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing...I’m just looking at you.” Raven said in a voice still husky with the traces of sleepiness.

Unable to resist the urge to tease Oz shifted a little, letting one leg slide out in front of him and the other move to one side. “And what do you see?” he asked light-heartedly.

“A gorgeous man I’d very much like to fuck.”

The response made Oz’s blood jolt hot. His mouth twisted up in a cat-like grin and he shook his head. “Oh Raven. Sleepiness always does make you so dominant...” he said with feigned disappointment.

Raven blinked slowly at him. “Don’t act like you’re disappointed. You love to show yourself off,” he said pointedly.

Desire awoke in Oz, spurred on as easily as ever by his love of touch and by Raven’s proximity in a state of undress. “Who said anything about upset?” Oz asked. He changed his position again, sliding off the wall and down onto his back, his legs slightly parted and shifting restlessly, his arms looped above his head, and his back arching artfully. “I’m just trying to decide how to let you have me...” He tipped his head back and moaned through closed lips, his chest heaving beneath the downpour of hot water. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, creating the illusion of surrendering to a fantasy building in his head.

Raven watched him for a few moments, his eyes raking over Oz’s ready, eager form. He reached out and grabbed Oz’s calves, tugging him closer. Oz allowed himself to be pulled, and made no protest as Raven slid him across the shower and right against him. Raven shifted onto his knees and guided one of Oz’s feet onto either side of his body. Then he grabbed Oz’s hips and pulled them up into his lap. He bent and kissed Oz’s lower stomach, then slid his hands up his back and pulled him upright. Oz bent his legs and settled atop Raven, sliding forward until they were flush against one another.

“Are you sure about this? I know you’re a little unstable right now...” Oz asked, his voice a touch breathy in the face of Raven’s unusually commanding touch.

Raven’s hands fell momentarily from Oz’s hips and his expression lifted out of lust and into logic. “You have my consent,” he said with a serious nod.

“And you have mine...” Oz returned. He shifted against Raven and let passion slip back into his voice. “It’s been too long since you fucked me. I want you so _badly_ ,” Oz said as Raven nudged his head back and began to kiss his jaw.

“It’s not just sleepiness that’s making me this way,” Raven breathed against Oz’s skin as he began to kiss him in earnest. “I love how you look in the summer. You’ve been surfing so much since we got here that you’ve got that gorgeous tan and your hair’s even brighter blond than usual...How could I resist that?” The next pass of his hands along Oz’s back found them gliding forward around his hips to brush the very tops of his inner thighs.

“I want you,” Oz repeated in a whisper, his hips shifting against Raven’s again. His head fell back to allow the water to course through his hair as Raven kissed and licked at his neck. “I want to touch you...and kiss you...and feel you in me...” Each phrase was accentuated with a roll of his hips or chest against Raven’s.

Raven chuckled and pulled Oz closer, his hand growing bolder between Oz’s legs, beginning to flicker and skate across his lower stomach, only barely brushing the base of Oz’s budding erection once with every few touches. “Trying to get me to beg already? Usually you’re a _little_ more tactful than that,” he teased.

Raven’s touches made Oz sigh loudly and he rolled his hips against Raven’s. “Seems like you’re the one trying to get me to beg right now,” he said. “But I think we both know who the more desperate one is right now, don’t we?” he asked smoothly, his fingers finally finding purchase curling around Oz’s cock and squeezing it.

“Yes!” Oz cried instantly. His head dropped forward and he closed the space between them and kissed Raven hard, surging up in his lap and wrapping his arms tight around his neck.

Raven’s lips parted instantly and he moaned into Oz’s mouth as their tongues met and danced about one another’s. Oz’s deft embrace enthralled Raven’s every sense and left him unabashedly sighing and letting out indistinct, pleasured sounds with every kiss. The noises combined with the familiar and erotic sensation of Raven’s tongue in his mouth served to toss Oz up and out of reality and surround him in a new world built entirely of touch and desire.

Raven could feel Oz growing hard against his lower stomach, and the blooming presence of his own arousal pressed underneath Oz’s thigh as he moved in his lap. He thrust up a little on instinct, his breath hitching as the movement shifted his cock to rest between Oz’s legs. A louder moan escaped him as Oz rolled down against him and kissed his neck.

“You’re so sexy like this…” Oz purred into Raven’s ear.

Raven groaned as Oz began to lick and suck at his earlobe. He rewarded the touch with another sucking kiss to Oz’s throat. “I don’t think anyone in the world would have guessed that Oz Vessalius could turn into a desperate, whimpering bottom in bed,” he said against Oz’s skin.

“Well that’s because you’re not a dominant, commanding top very often, are you? And I’m only a desperate, whimpering bottom for _you_.” Oz rolled his hips to rub Raven’s hardness against the soft skin between his legs.

Raven opened his mouth to reply but lost the words to in a desperate rush of sound as Oz closed his mouth around the shell of his ear and began to suck and lick and teethe at it. He grabbed Oz’s hips and jerked them back and forth to please himself, his eyes screwing shut hard as the friction of the touch combined with the heat of the water to leave him panting. “You’re such a fucking tease…” he complained breathlessly.

Oz rolled his hips in response, lifting himself to hover a few inches over Raven, teasing the tip of Raven’s cock against his entrance. “You’re the one who wanted me to beg …” he pouted. He lowered his hips a little, pushing Raven into himself only a centimeter or two, not enough to hurt but enough for Raven to register the heat and tightness between his legs. “Raven!” he cried.

The near need in Oz’s voice struck a chord in Raven. He gasped a hitched breath and thrust upwards on instinct. Oz mirrored the movement, taking the tantalizing promise of his body with him, and Raven cried out in frustration. The second he’d stilled Oz lowered himself once more and performed that same half-pleasing, half-infuriating movement, this time rocking back and forth with Raven pressed slightly into him in a mimic of the grinding roll of sex.

Raven’s hands tightened on Oz’s hips and he leaned in without realizing it, sinking his teeth into Oz’s neck where it joined his shoulder and sucking and biting hard on the sensitive skin there. “Oz…” he groaned against Oz’s skin as he mouthed at his shoulder.

The hard pressure and slight sharpness of Raven’s bite tugged a little yelp out of Oz. He rose atop Raven again as Raven’s hips jerked up towards his, and turned his head to one side to stretch the skin Raven was biting on and increase the sensation of Raven’s teeth and tongue clamping down on him. “I couldn’t decide how I wanted you to take me,” he said. “There are just too many ways. I think _you_ should choose...You’re stronger than I am. You could pin me to the floor with one hand and have me however you wanted…” He dared to sink a little lower onto Raven this time until genuine discomfort shot up his back from between his legs. Raven’s loud half-scream at the unfulfilled movement was more than enough of a reward for Oz’s efforts, and despite rationality he dared to sink another centimeter lower. “Would you like that? To see me lying facedown on the tile in front of you with water running over my back? To watch me spreading myself for you, begging you to fill me up with your cock and fuck me so hard I can’t do anything but cry for more even after I came?” He let out a dramatically loud groan and dropped his hands to his own upper thighs, tugging his legs a little further apart in imitation of the fantasy.

Any traces of rational sanity remaining to Raven fled in the face of Oz’s boldness and the erotic images he was spinning. He grunted and bit hard on Oz’s neck as he thrust upwards, then let out another frustrated cry as Oz rose with him once more. He tore himself away from Oz’s shoulder and looked up into his eyes, his golden gaze truly burning now. “You think you’ll be able to? I don’t...” Raven’s hand slid between Oz’s legs, rubbing up between his thighs. “I’m going to make you forget everything but my name by the time you come. When you’re begging for more that’s the only word you’ll have left...” He teased at the tight ring of skin between Oz’s legs then bent his middle finger and jerked it inside up to the second knuckle.

“Ah! Raven!” Oz gasped. He dropped hard into Raven’s lap again, his whole body a single aching pulse of desire.

“There, see? You’ve got it...” Raven growled. He licked absently at Oz’s skin and watched as he writhed in his lap, striving to push the finger inside him deeper or into a more satisfying position. Raven pulled his finger out a little bit in response. He let out a low chuckle as Oz whimpered in frustration. “Eye for an eye, Oz...You’re always teasing me, aren’t you?”

Oz opened his eyes and leaned back to look at Raven. His arms fell heavily around his neck and his hands looped through his hair. “What do you want me to do please I’ll do anything I just want you to touch me!” he begged.

A surge of power fluttered through Raven and his free hand found Oz’s hair. He grabbed it and dragged his head slowly backwards, exposing his neck. “All you have to do is show me you remember your word,” he teased.

He latched back onto Oz’s shoulder once more, sucking hard enough to leave a patch of bright red skin indented with darker teeth marks in his wake, rationalizing that Oz’s shirt would hide the evidence when they were in public later. Raven curled his hand as he sucked at Oz’s skin again and finally sank his finger as far as it would go into him. He found Oz’s prostate with ease and grazed a finger over it but darted away before the touch could be truly satisfying.

“Raven!” Oz cried, gyrating harder atop Raven’s hand, doing his best to fuck himself on what little Raven was allowing him.

“There it is...” Raven murmured. He finally rewarded Oz’s cry as he began to move his finger in slow, languid circles inside him. His hand remained in place as Oz began to move, allowing Oz the freedom to control the pace and depth of the touch.

Oz’s head dropped back and he let out a long, satisfied “ahhhhh...”. He pulled Raven’s head back against his neck and whimpered as Raven began to lick at the hollow below his throat and nip at his collarbone.

“You love this...Look at you, you perfect, sexy thing...You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you? So _eagerly_?” Raven asked lowly.

“Yes!” Oz gasped, the desperation in his voice winning out over the desire to tease. He shifted harder atop Raven. “I want more...more...please...” he breathed.

“So do I...” Raven said. He pulled his finger out of Oz and started to shift away from him. Oz cried out and tried to chase him but Raven put a hand on his chest and pushed him back to sit on the floor. “Calm down, I’ll be back in a second. Here...” He took one of Oz’s hands and guided it to where his own had been. Oz inserted two fingers into himself at Raven’s gentle coaxing and began to rock atop them.

Oz’s eyes opened, his gaze dizzy and unfocused with desperate arousal as he looked up at Raven. “Lube’s in...the bottom pocket of...my suitcase...” he panted.

Raven stood and looked down at Oz, a wolfish grin on his face. “And the toys you brought?”

Oz bit his lip and worked his fingers harder. “S-Same...” Raven walked to the door and opened it and Oz turned his head to watch him go. “Hurry!” he begged.

Raven looked back at him, his eyes half-lidded and elated. “So _desperate_...I love when you’re desperate for me...”

A moment of deep understanding passed between them despite the overwhelmingly physical and lewd bent to the mood. _It means you’re still desirable, even after what was done to you. That you can exercise control without hurting someone..._ Oz realized. He voiced the thought in another drawn-out sigh as he began to stroke himself.

Raven gave Oz a brief smile and retreated. He made quick work of the errand, fetching a bottle of lube and – despite a small flutter of a blush – a cone-shaped silicon toy that widened along its fairly substantial length. He returned to the bathroom and caught sight of Oz positioned on one hand and his knees, fingers working into and out of himself and chest heaving deep gasps with every breath.

Oz looked up as Raven entered, caught sight of the toy in his hand, and groaned again. He shook his head slowly. “You’re not just going to stand there and watch me fuck myself, are you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Tempting. You do look pretty hot riding your hand like that,” Raven murmured with a slight smile. “But no. You’re even hotter when you’re being fucked. And I want to come inside you.”

Raven entered the shower and shut the door once more before kneeling behind Oz. Oz shut his eyes and let his head drop forward as he heard Raven moving behind him. “Yes...Yes... I want to walk around with the memory of you fucking me filling me up for the rest of the night,” he panted. His entire body trembled as Raven brushed his thigh with a touch.

“Elbows and knees, love. And lean back towards me,” Raven commanded, his voice low and lustful. Oz obeyed with an eager little whimper. His hand fell to one side and he lowered himself to his elbows, his head dropping onto his clenched fists and his back arching as he rocked his hips backwards as instructed. The sight of Oz spread before him made Raven groan, and it took all he had to place one hand on Oz’s lower back and insert the first few inches of the wetted toy instead of his own cock. He watched Oz’s half-visible face as he slid the toy up into him. Erotic fascination made him smile as Oz’s mouth dropped open around a series of choked little sounds. He moved the toy in and out in a slow, deliberate thrust, delighting when that same look of unhinged ecstasy came over Oz as the toy stretched him a little at a time.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Y-Yes...Oh...Oh God...fuck...” Oz whimpered, his lips quivering as Raven pushed the toy into him again.

“Mmmmm...Maybe we’ll do it like this. That way I can watch myself fucking you,” he said mildly.

Oz let out a throaty moan and rocked back against Raven. “You’ll make me jealous...” he said. “You know how much...I love that.”

A long minute of lurid silence passed between them as Raven continued to pleasure Oz with the toy, rocking his own hips in time with its movement and watching Oz’s face intently for the bends and twists of pleasure.

Finally, on one especially deep, intense thrust, Raven leaned forward and took Oz’s hair in one hand. He tugged on it lightly and Oz obeyed the touch, allowing himself to be pulled back to his hands and knees. “Give me one of your hands.”

Raven had barely finished his sentence before one of Oz’s hands lifted from the shower floor and stretched behind himself. Raven took it and curled each of Oz’s fingers around the base of the toy as he continued to work it in and out, almost demonstrating to Oz how best to move it. When Oz’s hand was settled and he’d taken up the toy Raven tore his attention from the tantalizing spread between Oz’s legs and stood. He grabbed Oz’s hair again and pulled him along with him as he turned away from the door and settled with his back barely in the warm water.

Oz came to a stop and tipped up his head to look at Raven. “I love sucking you off,” he said with an expectant grin.

The expression coloring Oz’s face set Raven groaning. He settled a hand on the back of Oz’s head and used it to guide him into a more vertical position, then shifted closer. “ _Hard_ ,” he instructed.

Oz licked his lips. “Don’t you dare come in my mouth instead of my ass,” he purred.

“Not a chance,” Raven promised. “Open your mouth.”

Oz rose to his knees and pushed the toy another inch into himself. He dropped his mouth open in a soft, inviting O and looked up into Raven’s eyes with half a question in his gaze.

It was one Raven answered as he thrust lightly forward between Oz’s parted lips. Wet, loose, textured heat surrounded his cock and he sighed. His eyes were driven momentarily shut by the force of his pleasure, and when he opened them again he found Oz still looking up at him, working the toy into and out of himself with languorous insistence. Raven grunted softly and pulled Oz in a little closer, his blood bursting with adrenaline as Oz shifted his mouth and throat accordingly to take him deeper.

Satisfied with the arousal and fire he saw in Raven Oz closed his eyes and set to work, his head bobbing in and out to the time of the toy thrusting up into him. His tongue lathed over Raven’s cock almost worshipfully, and his neck turned and arched differently with every movement, to spread the pleasure of his sucking and licking as wide as he could.

Raven groaned and stroked Oz’s hair in approval, his attention raptly focused on sensation alone. He resisted the urge to buck against Oz after several particularly artful movements, but found himself unable to stop his hand from clenching tighter in Oz’s hair to guide him in and out at different angles. Oz was pliable and subservient to Raven’s every touch, and it wasn’t long before Raven’s second hand joined his first in Oz’s hair to help guide him. He groaned as he watched Oz work the toy up to its widest point inside himself and hold it there. At the same time his head stilled and he opened his eyes again. His face was all but directly against Raven’s body, his mouth full and his cheeks flushed with arousal. He blinked at Raven and swallowed around him in a further offer of submission.

“Oh _Oz_ ,” Raven moaned. He dared a fully realized thrust into Oz’s mouth to gauge his reaction. Oz sighed through his nose and let his eyes fall closed and his head hang heavy in Raven’s hands. Raven let out a loud groan and thrust again, his breathing hitching and growing slightly labored as Oz’s mouth and throat opened for him. His fingers clenched in Oz’s hair as he guided him in and out, tipping his head at different angles and pulling him in and out at different speeds to tease and pleasure himself. When he felt a familiar, tickling pressure building in the back of his throat Raven took a steadying breath and guided Oz in for one last sweet moment, holding his head flush against his body and groaning loudly as Oz sucked hard and swallowed around him. The sliding warmth and tight eagerness of Oz’s mouth around him nearly sent Raven toppling over the edge into orgasm but he resisted, using his grip on Oz’s hair to pull him back and off of him.

Oz sank away and sighed as the movement shifted the toy inside him. Raven sank to his knees before him and Oz bit his lip. “You still have my consent,” he breathed.

“You still have mine,” Raven returned. He reached out and took Oz’s hips in his hands then pulled them flush against each other.

Oz’s hands wound instantly in Raven’s hair. “I love the taste of you...” he murmured. The space between them closed and their mouths met in a heated toil of passionate kisses. Raven reached around behind Oz and shooed his hand from the toy. Raven took charge of it instead, working it momentarily inside to insure he was properly prepared. He hummed in approval and parted from Oz’s lips, then nodded to the floor.

Oz needed no further instruction. He let out a fluttering, excited sound and turned from Raven, positioning himself on his knees and arching his back as he slid forward to rest the side of his head on the damp shower floor and spread his arms before him. “If you’re going to watch instead of me I might as well give you a show, huh? Am I good like this, Raven?” he asked as he spread his knees further apart.

Raven sighed heavily. “You’re a work of fucking art...” he agreed. He scooted up behind Oz, studying him with another soft hum. He took the bottle of lube from the floor and liberally spread it over his length. Oz let out a half-startled, half-wanton gasp as Raven slid the toy slowly and smoothly from him. His cock replaced it barely a second later, sliding up inside Oz in a single even thrust that left their bodies pressed directly together.

Oz whimpered and his legs gave a shudder from hips to toes as Raven entered him. “Fuck yes,” he breathed in deep satisfaction. The stretch of their union was hardly more than the toy had given him, so Oz didn’t hesitate to begin moving instantly. He and Raven shifted in silent tandem, Raven sinking back onto his heels and Oz straddling his hips. His back was left pressed up to Raven’s chest as they stilled, and his arms reaching up and almost behind himself to grab Raven’s hair.

“Ride me,” Raven murmured. “I'm yours, Oz...Fuck yourself on me...”

“Yes...” Oz said with a nod.

They began to move together, Oz rising and falling in rolling undulations that carried Raven deep inside him. Raven worked to meet Oz with lengthy thrusts of his hips and sliding movements of his hands, which were locked on Oz’s hips. Each shift and twist and grind eased a slow moan or a whispered rendition of Oz’s name from him, and Oz responded to each with a moment of increased speed or a tightening of his muscles around Raven.

“Mmmmmmh...Raven you...you’re so _deep_...I love this angle...I love feeling how hard I make you...Don’t stop...” Oz groaned. He whimpered as Raven’s mouth closed on his neck and began to suck. The biting kiss brought a tantalizing sting along with it and Oz increased his pace with a gasp.

“God you’re sexy,” Raven said. He nipped at the skin at the base of Oz’s skull and thrust hard into him, hard enough to break their rhythm and set Oz whimpering.

“More...Harder,” Oz whispered, breathless.

“What was that, love? I couldn’t quite hear you...” Raven teased, slowing his pace a bit.

“Harder!” Oz pleaded more loudly, tightening his muscles around Raven the next time he rose, then falling heavily to drive him deep. The arch of his back and the angle at which Raven met him ignited the touch against Oz’s prostate. “Oh God...God...Like that! Like that again!” he begged.

Raven surged up into Oz’s next movement to repeat the feeling, falling back against Oz’s neck as he did. Oz cried out and arched his back further, his pace increasing so that every downward motion produced a loud, lewd smack as Raven was driven deep into him. Each of his breaths escaped him with a desperate “ah!”, and his thighs were trembling hard at the force of the sensation.

Raven’s own sounds, a collection of throaty groans and half-growls, filled the shower alongside Oz’s. His hands locked beneath Oz’s hips to help him rise and fall with more power and speed. The fierceness with which Oz was riding him was unbelievably pleasurable, but coupled with what he could see of Oz’s flushed face and heaving chest each shift and thrust threatened to push Raven over the edge into orgasm. He gasped and swallowed, letting out a loud groan against Oz’s skin and working him up and down even more quickly. “You’re so...expressive...” he panted.

Oz’s mouth bent up into a coy smile and he hummed lowly in understanding. His movements grew more pronounced and rhythmic, his hips and back rolling dramatically each time he rose in Raven’s lap. “What do you think...I’m going to look like...when you come into me?” he asked breathlessly.

“Fuck!” Raven’s hands clamped harder on Oz’s hips and he screwed his eyes shut as a vivid mental image of Oz panting and whimpering in pleasure atop him began to build itself in his head.

Oz’s head dropped backwards and settled on Raven’s shoulder and he groaned deeply. “Want to find out?” he asked. “There’s a mirror on the closet door in the bedroom...”

“Yes,” Raven answered firmly. He pulled Oz up and off of him and grabbed the toy and the lube from the floor. Then he helped Oz to his feet and followed him out of the shower. They walked silently and hurriedly to the bed and when they arrived Oz tossed himself down upon it on his stomach. He lay there panting as Raven walked to the closet and opened the door, positioning it so that the full-length mirror inside caught the entirety of the nearby bed. He turned on his heel and returned to Oz, left breathless and newly aroused by the sight of him lying prone among the tangled blankets.

Oz gasped and whined as Raven climbed onto the bed behind him. He walked forward on his knees, his legs pressing against Oz’s and spreading them with every step. Finally he reached Oz’s hips and took up the bottle of lube. He smoothed a generous amount over himself and stuck three fingers back inside Oz to stretch him a little again. Oz cried out and Raven lowered himself atop him, his chest pressing against Oz’s back with each breath. He tugged on Oz’s hair with one hand, turning his head so his face was visible in the mirror. “Show me what it feels like to have me in you,” he murmured.

Oz nodded and turned his face a little further. He forced his eyes open and his face to soften into what he could manage of a neutral expression. “Surprise me...” he begged. “Don’t tell me before you enter me again.”

“I won’t,” Raven murmured. Expectant silence settled between them, Oz prone on the bed and Raven hovering ready above him, waiting.

The quiet shattered around a cry as Raven thrust smoothly back into Oz. Oz’s eyes clamped shut and his mouth fell open to let loose a sweet, sighing cry in response to the feeling of the entrance. The hard, insistent press of Raven’s cock being swallowed up in the heat and tightness of his body surged up through Oz with the same addictive fire as cocaine. When Raven struck against his prostate Oz’s expression bent further. His mouth closed around a whine and he bit his lip hard, his hips bucking backwards into Raven’s and his hands clenching in the sheets.

“Jesus, Oz...” Raven panted as Oz lurched back against him. He stilled, then pulled out enough to slide over the same spot again. Oz trembled and slumped beneath him in accordance. Raven slipped in far enough to hit the spot again and Oz responded with further eager shifts. Raven continued to move that way, massaging the bundled knot of nerves inside of Oz with each thrust. He watched, enraptured, as shifts in angle and force changed the sweet expression on Oz’s face and the clench of his muscles around him.

Oz could feel Raven’s eyes like brands on his reflection, delighting in each minimal change in expression and position. He responded aptly, unhinging himself so that no barrier of modesty or self-consciousness barred him from letting his face shift into eager and accentuated expressions of total ecstasy. Raven’s weight atop him and the constant, dragging pleasure of his thrusts kept Oz’s mouth turned up in a passionate smile.

A particularly driven thrust struck at a new and potent angle that caused Oz’s eyes to open wide and his mouth to drop open. He met Raven’s gaze in the mirror and exhaled a sweet cry from deep in his chest. Raven gasped heavily and stopped in place, pulling out of Oz without comment and sitting back on his heels.

“Come here,” he whispered.

Oz sat up and turned, his eyes traveling long and slow along the firm lines of muscle that made up Raven’s arms and torso. He slid forward, each move deliberately slow as he slipped his legs around the outside of Raven’s hips, wrapped his arms around his neck, and lowered himself back onto him. A teasing smile flitted up on his lips. “Come here yourself...Seems like you’re about ready to,” he joked.

Raven laughed breathlessly as he and Oz started up again, moving faster and more erratically in time with the climax building in Raven’s stomach. “That’s the stupidest thing...you’ve ever...said in bed,” he panted.

“Sorry...I’ll try not to be so cocky...” Oz gasped. He clenched his muscles tight around Raven and ground his hips against his, long and slow. “But you’re certainly not helping with that...”

Raven stopped in place and pulled back to look at Oz. His green eyes were full of childish joy and his mouth twisted hard with the effort not to laugh. “So help me God, Oz Vessalius. One more stupid joke and I’m going back to sleep right this fucking second,” Raven said with mock sternness.

Oz finally caved and laughed at his own joke, leaning forward to rest his head on Raven’s shoulder as he did. The laugh reverberated through his body and manifested itself in thrilling jolts of his muscles around Raven. He gasped and tightened his arms around Raven’s neck as the spastic movements of his muscles inspired Raven thrust up into him again.

“I love when you laugh,” Raven murmured against Oz’s throat as he kissed him. He tightened his arms around Oz and began to move again.

Oz reciprocated, his breath snatching in his throat. “See? My stupid jokes...do some good...” He laughed again at his own antics and the feeling of Raven’s tongue and teeth skating over a ticklish spot near the top of his neck.

The pulsing tightening and shiver of Oz’s laugh struck Raven with another jolt of pleasure. He gritted his teeth and cried out softly as he came, still thrusting instinctively into Oz even as he felt the wetness of his orgasm spreading around him.

Oz, caught off-guard by the orgasm, shuddered and tightened his muscles in response to Raven’s little thrusts. He bit his lip, reveling in the odd, erotic sensation of a course of hot fluid pumping into his body and filling him up. “Fuck...” he whispered. “Raven...”

Raven pulled out of Oz before he’d completely spent himself, sending a little spray of fluid onto Oz’s stomach and a drip of sticky wetness onto his own upper thighs. He was breathing hard, his head still buzzing with desire as he pulled away from Oz and lowered him onto the bed before him on his back. He dropped down between Oz’s thighs and looked up at him, his sultry gaze connecting with Oz’s desperate one in the mirror. “Come here yourself...” he echoed with a little smile as he bent his head and pulled Oz into his mouth, his long-broken gag reflex working in his favor to allow him to move fast and deep right away.

Oz cried out and collapsed backwards on the bed, his head dropping to hang slightly over the edge. He made eye contact with his reflection and then let his gaze wander, his heart thudding at the sight of his own prone form, knees raised and parted to allow Raven to continue his adept movements. He lifted his head and clutched at the sheets as he watched Raven’s parted lips slip up and down. His eyes widened and he fell back again as Raven slipped the toy out from beneath where he was lying. Oz whimpered as it pushed its way up between his legs a few inches. His hips twitched instinctively down towards it.

“Deeper... _Deeper_...” he begged. “So it’s like you’re fucking me all over again!”

Raven satisfied the request without question as he slipped the toy as far into Oz as it would go, its passage eased by the slickness of fluid filling his body. Oz’s muscles clenched and he shamelessly dropped a hand beneath himself and ran a finger along the edge of his stretched skin and then pushed it inside to join the toy. The added stretch provided a moment of intense sting and then settled into the same pulsing foreignness as having Raven shoving up into him. “It’s not as wide as you are...” he complained breathlessly.

Raven tightened his lips around Oz and came to rest right against his stomach, breathing easily despite fullness in his mouth and throat. He shooed Oz’s hand away and stuck two of his own fingers into him alongside the toy, uncaring of the sticky mess that instantly coated them. He wrapped his free hand around the toy and began to move it in and out along with his fingers. He sucked hard and consistently at Oz at the same time, his tongue sliding up and down with consistent movements that matched the pace the toy was keeping. He groaned in approval as Oz yelped in pleasure and bucked up against him, welcoming the movement by loosening the back of his throat and grinding the toy hard against Oz’s prostate.

The grinding thrust combined with the pressure of Raven’s mouth around Oz and sent a jolt down his spine. He gasped and clenched his fists in anticipation. “I’m going to come...!” The warning emerged fitful and breathless, and Oz’s entire body began to tremble.

Instead of pulling away Raven sucked Oz hard once more and pulled the toy away, leaving only his two fingers in place, pressed directly against Oz’s prostate. He swallowed a few times in quick succession to mimic the feeling of orgasm and let out a low hum that made his throat and mouth vibrate.

Oz’s back arched hard and then relaxed as he came. The feeling was a familiar one, and Raven welcomed the seawater-salty taste that followed it along with a rush of thick fluid. His mouth was full in an instant, but he swallowed easily and remained in position as Oz’s orgasm continued. The suction of the swallow tugged another jolt of pleasure out of Oz and his hips seized a few more times, each twitch bringing another little tide with it.

Raven swallowed again when Oz’s orgasm passed, reveling in the shudder of pleasure that went through his partner as he did. He slid back off of Oz and sat up between his knees, studying his flushed face and quivering legs with something close to rapture.

“Holy...shit...” Oz panted. He opened his eyes and looked up at Raven, his gaze hazy with ecstasy. “Wow...”

Raven nodded and slid out from between Oz’s legs. He closed his eyes and fell beside him on the bed, equally breathless and trembling with over-stimulation.

Oz laughed softly again. He turned his face and smiled exhaustedly at Raven. “So...How long do I have...before you get unbelievably embarrassed...for all the dirty shit you said?” he asked playfully.

Raven’s face shifted in an instant from sleepy and glowing to embarrassed and alive with a bright blush. “S-Shut up!”

            Oz squealed and turned to the side, laughing, just in time to avoid being hit square in the face by the pillow Raven reached for and thumped down upon him in retaliation. He peeked up at Raven and cried out as a second pillow dropped atop the first, this one directly against his face.

            “It would have been a lot longer if you hadn’t brought it up,” Raven groused.

            Oz’s head lifted from between the pillows and he smiled at Raven. “You’re cute when you blush, too, you know,” he said happily.

            Raven’s blush only deepened. “Come on, Oz, stop...” he said half-heartedly, turning away to disguise a smile.

            Oz sat up and pursued Raven, leaning over him and turning him onto his back with one insistent hand on his shoulder. “You stop.”

            Raven’s mouth flickered stubbornly up at the corners as he submitted to Oz’s touch. He forced it into an obstinate line and furrowed his brow. “Stop what?” he asked.

            Oz’s expression bent in contrast to Raven’s, taking on a newlywed’s soft, love-struck look. “Being so incredible. If you don’t I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to get anything done again,” Oz replied with a shake of his head.

            Raven’s eyes narrowed teasingly. “Don’t think I’m not watching your eyes wander to my bedside table. If saying this is some kind of ploy to get me to give you my phone I-“

            “It’s not,” Oz interjected. He bent to kiss Raven briefly, then pulled back and looked down at him. “I swear.”

            Raven’s stomach stirred. He searched Oz’s face for a long moment, the familiar smooth places, small imperfections, and rays of dazzling beauty kind as silk or sunrise against the dark, persistent loneliness that was a constant threat at the edge of his vision. He swallowed. “Hold me...?” he asked, voice aching. He almost winced at the vulnerability he could hear in his own tone. A moment of self-consciousness seared across him as he waited for Oz’s response. _Don’t turn away. Please don’t turn away._

            Oz slid down beside Raven without comment and wrapped his arms around him. Raven’s hair curled between his fingers as he began to stroke it absently, and their legs entwined in a pattern of closeness so familiar it was akin to breathing.

            Raven let out a long sigh. “Thank you for this,” he murmured.

“You say that like it’s some kind of chore...I know affection isn’t really my thing, but love to hold you, Raven. I love-“ _you_. Oz stopped himself, his breath clenching in his throat. “-moments like these.”

            “Me too. Even if it’s not...if we’re not...” Raven paused, nesting gently against Oz, “It makes me happy.”

Deep warmth coursed through Oz and he blinked slowly at Raven. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah...” Raven sighed. “I’m scared, Oz...I...I’m scared there’s more to all of this than just Charlotte and Lotte...I’m scared for us and for Leo and Elliot and for Liam and...and even Break...But right now that feels separate.” Raven softened slightly in Oz’s arms. “That’s not something I feel very often.”

Oz’s smile deepened. “I’m glad I could do something to help you.” _That’s not something I feel very often._ The pessimistic thought nearly made him wince.

Raven caught the momentary flicker in Oz’s eyes and smile and turned slightly to hold him in return. “What’s wrong, Oz?” he asked.

Defenses and excuses shot up instantly to cover the exposed wound in Oz’s heart. He opened his mouth to voice one of them, then let it fall closed again as his eyes met Raven’s. A question rose up to take the place of the damning, self-destructive thought, and though fear prickled through him at the weight of it Oz steeled himself and opened his mouth to ask. “I’m just...Am I...Do you feel as happy with me as...as you could?”

By the time he’d finished speaking Oz’s voice was so quiet that Raven could barely hear him. The words crystallized in a few long, hesitant seconds and Raven’s face grew more serious. “Oz...what are you asking me?” he whispered in return.

“I’ve...seen...” Oz gathered himself and let out a tense sigh. “I know you go out sometimes. I know you’re seeing other people and I don’t- It scares me. You don’t go to _work_ unarmed but I’ve seen you leave hotel suites in the middle of the night without so much as a pocketknife. And I just want to know where-“

Raven sat up abruptly and pulled away from Oz. “You want to know where I’m going?!” he snapped.

Oz jumped, startled by the sudden outburst. “W-Well yeah. I’m worried. I don't want-“

“-me seeing other people?” Raven asked sharply. He rolled out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the floor, which he yanked on before stalking away across the room. “I didn’t know you cared, Oz. That’s sweet,” he said bitterly.

Oz sat up to watch Raven’s back retreat across the room, his tattoos shifting with each breath and tensing as Raven clenched both his fists. “Raven, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you...”

Raven reached the window seat and dropped into it. He reached for a pack of cigarettes he’d left there and a booklet of matches to light one. The first match broke in his hand, as did the second, and a barb of fury shot through him. “Dammit!” he shouted as a third match tumbled from his hand and struck the floor.

“Raven, here, let me help,” Oz fumbled on the floor and came up with a pair of boxers. He pulled them on and stumbled out of bed towards Raven, picking up a second matchbook from the dresser as he did.

Raven’s head whipped around, his eyes rock-hard and sharp as nails. “I can light my own fucking cigarette, Oz!” he snapped. “I...I can do it myself...!”

Oz stopped in his tracks and watched as Raven took another match from the pack and struck it. This one ignited with a little flare. Even from halfway across the room he could hear Raven’s audible sigh of relief as he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply of the smoke. He shook out the match and flicked it into an empty glass he’d been using as an ashtray, then leaned back against the window.

Oz hovered helplessly in place. “Raven...are you..?”

“I’m fine,” Raven said stonily. His face bent in an almost gruesome smile. “Why would I be anything but fine? It’s over now. Isn’t it?”

Oz took another hesitant step closer. Raven shifted further into himself on the window seat, his knees drawing up against his chest. Oz considered him, the unreadable expression, the fidget in his hands, the uneasy tenseness in his spine. It was clear then, in the tease of sunlight through Raven’s fingers as he lifted his cigarette, that the distance between them was one that could not be spanned, even by touch. Perhaps especially by touch. He sank slowly to his knees and folded his hands in his lap. “It doesn’t have to be...” he said.

Shame clung to Raven, a sullen leprosy that kept his face turned towards the window. He swallowed. “I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

Oz bit his lip and looked down. “I...don’t know either...” he admitted.

Raven tapped out a length of ashes into his makeshift tray. He watched them settle, and a feeble trail of white smoke rise from a living ember. _There I am..._ he thought dully. _A scrap._ “You’re not going to ask me why I’ve been going out to see other men?” Raven finally asked.

“I know why you’ve been doing it,” Oz replied quietly.

“I’m trying to stop. Believe me, I don’t want it. It’s not that you aren’t enough, I just...“ Raven sighed heavily and tapped out more ashes onto the ember smoldering in his glass to cover it.

“This isn’t about me.” Oz scooted an inch or two closer on the floor.

“Then what is it about?” Raven asked almost desperately, even if his voice barely rose beyond a plaintive whisper.

“You...Finding a way to...to rectify it. What happened to you, I mean. There have to be better ways to do it, right?”

“Better ways than what, going to bars by myself and hunting down men in their fifties who wear silver tie pins and American cut suits and slick back their hair? Better than flirting with them and letting them call me Gilbert and telling them I don’t care that they’re twice my age, that growing up in the business world of _course_ I’m into older men...? Better than-than...“ Raven trailed off. His hand clenched into a fist so tight that his neatly trimmed nails dug blistering crescents into his palms

“...letting them rape you...” Oz whispered, hesitant.

Raven’s lips began to shake around his cigarette and he disguised the act of wiping away a tear by turning to the window once more. “You don’t have to put it like that...” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s not. I ask for it. I ask every time...”

“Asking and wanting are different things,” Oz returned, his voice quiet and fragile as a baby bird.

Raven bit his lip to stifle a sniffle. Silence, uncertain and bone-deep as the exhale of a lonely god, flooded through the space between them. It loomed over Raven, nipping at his skin with self-conscious teeth, and he curled into himself beneath it, cold and utterly alone. “Are you mad at me?” he finally whispered. Each syllable was an audible struggle, a labor against a new and crueler master.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Oz asked, just as quiet.

“Because I’m supposed to be better…” The biter statement finally tugged an insistent tear free of Raven’s welling eye. He dashed it away with the back of his hand and swallowed a further gush of them.

“Raven…No you aren’t…” Oz said with a little shake of his head.

“Isn’t that what you expect?” Raven asked a little coldly.

“No. You were hurt for a long time. Just because your abuser is dead doesn’t mean it’s over.”

            The response set a lump growing in Raven’s throat, which threatened to choke him with every breath. “I’m still…I still can’t believe that all the time,” he whispered.

“Then I’ll remind you,” Oz offered with a hopeful little smile.

Raven finally looked over at him, his eyes heavy with some kind of broken fear. The smile on Oz’s face, gentle and familiar and as bright as ever, was so unexpected it set numb tears running down his face again. He stared at Oz in blatant shock, at once reserved and openly pleading. “You…” He lifted a hand to wipe the tears away but couldn’t quite manage it. “You’re smiling…How can you be smiling? Look at me. I’m a mess, Oz…Fifteen minutes ago we were joking around in bed and now I’m…like this…”

“I want you to know that nothing’s changed.” Oz said. He rose and approached cautiously, his posture soft and that smile still on his face. He took a seat across from Raven on the bench by the window and lifted his hand to his lips. He kissed his fingers and then placed the backs of them against Raven’s cheek, where he wiped away each track of tears in turn. “I’ll kiss your tears away whenever you cry… ‘kay?” he asked.

Raven breathed a half-relieved and half-pained laugh. He reached for Oz’s other hand and took it before he could stop himself. He pressed his fingers against Oz’s. A smile rose on his face as Oz squeezed back. “Okay,” he said with a long sigh. He shook his head. “I’m sorry…Sometimes I get like this after sex…I don’t mean to, I…I just can’t stop it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Oz said with another squeeze of Raven’s hand. “Just tell me what I can do to help. Please.”

Raven’s free hand rose to latch softly around the pendant at his throat. He lifted it to his nose. The little ball of soaked cedar wood inside radiated the smell of juniper, palpable to his sensitive nose even before he took a deep inhale and allowed the scent to overwhelm him. “Just…keep being my Juniper? Okay?”

Oz nodded and studied the necklace against Raven’s chest as he dropped it. He reached out and touched it. The hollow silver filigree orb at its center glittered against his skin and the ball of scented wood clicked as he ran it between his fingers. “You know you don’t have to wear this every day just because I gave it to you, don’t you? You don’t owe it to me or anything.”

“I know. I wear it because I like it, not because I think I owe you. It was a beautiful Christmas present.” He smiled. “Thank you again.”

            “Raven, it’s been over six months. You don’t have to keep thanking me,” Oz returned.

“It’s just…” Raven lifted the necklace again. “You know, this was the first piece of new jewelry or clothing I got after Zai died. When you put it on me I…I was scared. I thought something was going to happen. I wasn’t supposed to wear things like this when he was alive. Even if it was what I wanted it wasn’t what he wanted, so they were off limits. But all day nothing bad happened. And then the next day nothing bad happened. Nobody yelled at me. Nobody told me to take it off. Nobody told me it didn’t look right on me, or that I wasn’t supposed to own things like it. Since then I’ve thought of it as freedom. That’s why I never take it off. And why I keep thanking you. It’s not just about the necklace…” His voice trailed away and a soft, shy blush rose on his cheeks. He looked away to keep it in check. “It’s about you, too. You’re sort of…well…I…I think of you as my…freedom.”

Raven’s tender quiet and beloved shyness made Oz smile softly. He nodded to the edge of Raven’s tattoo visible on his upper arm. “Well then you’re my wings…” He laughed to himself and winked at Raven. “Because you’re always making my heart flutter.”

“O-Oz!” Raven protested. He shoved Oz playfully away. “You and your bad jokes can sit on the other side of the window seat.”

Oz laughed and crossed his legs. He lifted his hands and closed one eye to frame Raven against the window seat, half his face caught in the afternoon light and his arms looped casually around one raised knee. “Fine. It’s better light over here anyway…”

Raven tipped his head and adopted a jokingly stern expression. “Oz. _No!_ We have to be at dinner in two hours and I’m not even dressed. That’s not enough time for one of your portraits!”

“Oh, sure it is.” Oz hopped up and trotted across the room to where his utter explosion of a suitcase lay near the closet. He picked up a large briefcase-like rectangular bag from beside it. “Stay still. You look _beautiful_ in that light!”

“Oz…” Raven protested. He relaxed back against the windowsill even as he did and gave Oz what he hoped came off as a disapproving sigh. “If we’re late for dinner that’s it. I’ll never pose for you again.”

Oz sat back in his place across from Raven and opened the bag. He pulled out a spiral-bound sketchpad and a large case of drawing pencils, then leaned back against the wall and set the paper on his knees. “Oh, that’s not true and you know it.” He opened the sketchpad and began to flip carefully through the cluster of pencil drawings crowding its beginning third. All were done in pencil and rich charcoal with smatterings of color – deep brown eyes, radiant blue butterfly wings, the half-crimson shadow cast by a glass of red wine. Portraits, still lives, and imagined landscapes wound together to form an incoherent story as Oz flipped through them, each page an eerily detailed and realistic snapshot of its creators observations and creative thought.

Raven watched each drawing pass upside down as Oz turned them over his knees. He smiled at the several portraits of himself littered throughout drawings of flowering trees and roaring dragons and pretty, unnamed women in evening gowns. “You’ve gotten so good...” he said with an awed shake of his head. “They don’t even look like drawings anymore.”

“Well, you were always hogging Papa’s camera. I had to find some way to keep up,” Oz said with a smile. He reached a blank page and sat back. “Any requests?” he asked.

“Can I light my cigarette again?” Oz nodded and Raven plucked the unspent two thirds or so of his cigarette from his makeshift ashtray. He lit it on the first try this time and leaned back in the window seat to look at the city. _Please let the light catch on my skin just right...Let me look like he makes me feel..._ He exhaled smoke, flooding Buenos Aires with a momentary concealing fog that left him utterly alone above it. The thought made him smile, and as the telltale scratching of Oz’s pencil began around him he sighed out another plume of smoke and let his head fall back against the wall. “I do...have one more request,” he said a little hesitantly. “It’s not too late, is it?”

“I’ve barely started sketching. What is it?” Oz asked without looking up.

“Draw me how you see me.” Raven said quietly. “You always draw real life. Right now I want...a little bit of fantasy, I guess. Is that okay?”

            After a beat of silence Raven looked over at Oz and nearly gasped to find his viscerally green eyes staring into him. His face was lit up with the vibrant, focused fire that always filled it when he drew. Raven swallowed as tense static electricity like the prelude to a kiss sparked between them.

            “Yes,” Oz said with a nod. “Yes...that’s okay.” He blinked slowly and returned to his drawing.

            Raven relaxed back against the wall once more, a captivating thrum filling his blood. A sudden and vivid swell of memory - Oz’s face caught in ecstasy in the bedroom mirror - rose through his head like a fragrance. He let out a heavy breath and took another long draw of his cigarette.

“What are you thinking about?” Oz asked distractedly as he continued to draw.

“You,” Raven replied simply, shifting in his seat a bit.

Oz caught the shift out of the corner of his eye and smiled cunningly at the Raven beginning to take shape on his paper. “What about me?”

Another plume of smoke swirled from Raven’s lips and crowded the window with a grey haze. “How I would draw you, if I could,” he returned pensively.

“And how would that be?” Oz looked up to catch the curvature of Raven’s shoulder. He caught the rapt, lost expression on Raven’s face and his smile grew. He let out a purposely loud breath and spread his knees a bit beneath his drawing pad.

Raven’s eyes flicked over and washed unashamedly over Oz’s bare torso and hovered knowingly on the crux between his legs. He remained silent, eyes fixed on a dark hickey on Oz’s neck.

Oz’s hand lifted from the page and he tipped his head. “Trying to figure out how to put it into words?” he teased.

“I’m not sure if I’d know the words to use.” Raven exhaled a breath heavy with the leaden weight of reawakened desire. “Maybe...I’ll have to show you.”

Oz clicked his tongue. “ _Again?_ Already? I’m flattered...”

Raven tapped ash from his cigarette into the tray and extinguished the butt in it. He shifted forward onto his knees and reached out to take Oz’s drawing pad from him. Oz made no attempt at protest either when Raven took his unfinished drawing and set it aside or grabbed his hips and tugged him down onto the window seat on his back. His eyes drooped to half-lidded and he reached up to wrap his arms around Raven’s neck as Raven settled over him, his hips pressed between Oz’s legs and his hands gripping Oz’s shoulders tight.

“Where’s all this coming from?” Oz asked playfully as Raven ground against him.

Raven’s head had already dropped insistently to Oz’s neck to kiss and suck at the already dark red spot their earlier embrace had left there. “I told you…you look really sexy with a tan.”

Oz’s breath caught and his legs lifted to cinch around Raven’s hips. “Then I’m glad I’ve been spending so much time in the sun…” He hummed softly as Raven kissed his neck once more. “Who could resist a man like you?”

“A man…” Raven’s hands slipped out to take Oz’s and he squeezed his fingers hard. “Say it again…” he whispered as he continued to kiss along Oz’s neck.

“A _man_ like you…” Oz repeated, his emphasis shifting slightly.

“I didn’t get the chance to feel like a man for almost two decades…” He reached behind him and hiked Oz’s thigh higher up on his hips. “I have to make up for lost time.”

“Far be it from me to stop you,” Oz said with a breathless laugh. “I’m yours.”

“Prove it,” Raven growled. His hand dropped between Oz’s legs to grope him. He nipped Oz’s neck in satisfaction as Oz let out an impassioned cry.

Oz’s eyes sparkled and he panted up at Raven. “But Raven…we have a dinner reservation in two hours. And you’re not even dressed yet…”

“I have to change anyway…” Raven said with a teasing smile. “Come here. I need your help picking out what I’m going to wear…”

Raven rose, and Oz followed him. They walked together to the chest of drawers Raven had unpacked into. Oz came to a stop and reached out to open one of the drawers, but fell victim to a pleased whimper and a moment of blinding eagerness as Raven pushed up behind him, hard enough to force his hips against the dresser.

“Purple,” Oz murmured. “If you’re wearing a suit it should be that grey one, with a plum-colored shirt.”

“And what about you?” Raven asked. He bent over Oz and began to nip at the back of his neck. “I hope you don’t mind something with a collar.”

Oz ground his hips back against Raven’s and reached up to press his hand to the back of Raven’s neck and pull him closer and encourage his nipping and tugging. “Not in the least bit.”

“Good,” Raven replied. He set about kissing Oz in earnest and slid a hand downwards until it slipped beneath the waistband of Oz’s pants. He pressed Oz’s body against the dresser. A long sigh filtered out of him at the sight of Oz so explicitly splayed, his shoulders tense and his breath already coming in gasps.

He leaned down over Oz, slipping his pants aside as he did. His mouth drifted to Oz’s ear.

“Good…” he repeated in a whisper.

 

* * *

 

Elliot shifted nervously on the bed and cleared his throat to keep from sighing for the tenth time in five minutes. He caught his foot tapping agitatedly and gave it a rather perturbed look, then reached out to smack his hand hard against his knee to stop his leg from moving.

“ _Stay_!” he ordered.

His leg betrayed orders less than ten seconds after he lifted his hand away. The heel of his dress shoe tapped a nervous beat on the tile floor, as quick and erratic as his heartbeat was steadily becoming.

“What the fuck?!”

His disobedient leg offered no excuse, nor did it protest as Elliot rose and threw himself into an unsettled trek across his hotel room from the edge of the bed where he’d been sitting to a desk near the window. He sat in it with a dramatic huff and picked up a pen to begin absently drawing on the pad of paper on the desk.

It began to tap the same nervous beat his leg was threatening to pick up almost the second he took it in hand.

His jaw dropped. “No.”

The pen kept right on ticking.

Elliot took a deep breath and gave the pen a stern look.

_You are Elliot Goddamn Nightray, a member of one of the most notable families on the planet, an internationally recognized composer, and the owner of the Walt Disney Company,_ part of his brain reasoned. _And here you are, about to fight a pen_.

His eyes narrowed.

_And this isn’t even the pen’s fault. It’s your hand’s._

His gaze flicked momentarily to his hand, and a wild thought of biting off his own fingers flew through his head.

_But I’m wearing white..._

He returned his attention to the pen and took a deep, steadying breath in preparation for battle. His hand lifted from the desk and he took aim at the trashcan across the room.

A sudden sound, _definitely_ loud enough that it could have been the building falling down around him, rang through the room.

Elliot shrieked in surprise and reeled back in his chair. The pen flew from his hand and landed harmlessly on the floor and his disobedient leg flailed along with the rest of him in an attempt to save his balance.

He leapt to his feet, heart pounding, as his chair crashed to the floor. He caught sight of the hotel phone’s receiving light winking just as it rang again. Embarrassment washed over him and he straightened his lapels and cleared his throat. After a steadying moment he walked back across the room and sat on the bed. He picked up the phone and held it against his ear with his shoulder. His hands fluttered on his knees in nervous patterns, playing out the Merry Widow Waltz on an invisible piano. “Hello?” he asked nervously.

“Hello?” Leo’s voice returned.

Relief flooded through Elliot and he let out a gasping breath. “Are you alright?” he asked before Leo’s greeting was even out.

“Yes, I’m fine. And you-“

“Did you find those agents?!” Elliot cut in urgently.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line and then Leo spoke again, his voice a bit tense. “-were right about those agents. Already here.”

“I knew it.” Elliot’s hands settled as his anxiety melted away, leaving calm, sharply intelligent calculation in his wake. “They must be some sort of vigilantes...None of the governmental agencies in the Western world have made the connection between Hunter and me yet.” He shook off the quiet thought and returned his attention to Leo. “Did they fall for it? You as Lacie?”

Leo laughed. “Are you kidding me? Of _course_ they fell for it. Everyone does,” Leo replied.

Elliot nodded in satisfaction. “Nice work.” His voice quieted. “You got out clean, didn’t you? They didn’t follow you? You don’t sound nervous or pissed off enough to be being tailed.”

“Well yeah.” The sound of sliding fabric and the slight squeak of a shifting motorcycle interrupted Leo’s response.

Elliot swallowed, helpless against an image of Leo hiking up the slippery satin skirt he’d left their room in to slide onto his bike.

“-restaurant you love near the city center paid the price.”

The momentary deafness that had washed over Elliot in the face of the lewd thought slammed away. “You _bombed_ it?! Dammit, Leo! That place had one of the best wine cellars in the country!”

“Things got messy! I had to get out fast! They’re good fighters, Elliot. Better than I was anticipating,” Leo said. A roaring sound flooded through the receiver as Leo started his bike and Elliot winced.

“Nothing you can’t handle, when you’ve had some time to prepare.” Elliot crossed his legs and picked a bit of lint off his suit. His foot began to tap again as agitation settled in once more.

“They got away this time but they won’t again,” Leo replied.

Elliot checked his watch. “Where are you? If you’re on your way to the city center I can meet you.”

“On my way to the gala now...Do you want me there as Glen or Lacie?”

“Lacie. That dress is very flattering on yo-“ Elliot only realized what he’d said when it was far too late, and cleared his throat to cover it up. “I...think it’ll be less suspicious that way. If anybody tries to accuse you as Lacie of the bombing I can be your alibi.”

Leo’s rich sonata of a laugh trickled through the phone over the sound of his bike’s motor. “Fair enough...I think this dress is very flattering on me, too...” His voice grew teasing and mirthful and he laughed again after a moment, almost like he could see the harsh flush of an embarrassed blush rising on Elliot’s cheeks.

Elliot clapped a hand on his cheek like he could hide his plight from Leo. “H-Hey! I didn’t mean-“

Leo cut him off. “Bring me another bracelet from the room, will you? A diamond one, to replace the scorpion?” he asked with a final giggle.

Elliot sighed in resignation. “Yeah, I will.” He looked across the hotel room to the vanity mirror near the bathroom, where parts of Leo’s extensive jewelry collection winked in the light. Leo offered a short thanks, muffled as he pulled his helmet over his head. “Hey...You got clear of those two agents, but don’t get too cocky. We’re walking on eggshells here with this plan. We have rivals. Try to remember that.”

“Elliot, I’m not worried about it. To be honest I’m starting to believe Scarlet isn’t even here. She’s so flashy that you know she’ll do something ornate to get your attention if she is. And if that happens we’ll take care of her,” Leo said dismissively.

A moment of sharper panic flared in Elliot. “It’s not Charlotte I’m worried about! It’s Lily. You know she’s almost as stealthy as you are. She could ambush you at any time, Leo. Keep an eye out, alright?”

Leo scoffed. “That little dog only barks when she’s told and goes where her mistress tells her. Until we see Scarlet we won’t see her. _Then_ I’ll worry. Just get to the gala, okay? I’ll meet you there,” he said.

Elliot nodded. “Okay...Don’t forget to destroy this burner phone,” he said in what he hoped was something approaching a calm manner.

“Yes, I’ll get rid of it,” Leo returned.

Elliot took a deep breath and stood to go. “Drive safe, alright?”

“Alright...Bye, Elliot.”

The line dropped as Leo hung up. Elliot hovered for a moment in silence, the phone still to his ear. “Bye, Leo...” He hesitated, then set the phone back in its cradle. He straightened his lapels, tugged on his cuffs, and set his shoulders. _Alright. You’ve got this. Elliot Goddamn Nightray. Just remember that._ He walked to the vanity and looked over Leo’s jewelry for a few pensive seconds before tucking an elegant diamond and amethyst cuff bracelet into his jacket pocket. He took half a step back to go but found himself halted by a half-romantic thought. Before he could second-guess himself he swiftly removed the plain silver cufflinks he wore and replaced them with an amethyst-studded set he pulled from a drawer of Leo’s large jewelry box. _Maybe he’ll notice..._ He shook his head to clear it and turned sharply from the jewelry box to free himself of the tangling threads of the idea.

            He left the room and made his way down to the hotel’s lobby, using the short elevator ride to compose himself further and reason away some of the pervasive anxiety that clouded around him. He greeted a few surprised people waiting to get into the elevator on the main floor with a smile and pushed past them. He gave a nod to the front desk’s attendant, who recognized him on the spot and picked up the phone to dial the valet.

            The woman’s timing was impeccable, and the valet was waiting with his keys as he exited the hotel. The peaceful suavity of the tranquil and atmospheric front staircase was broken by the sound of motors roaring around the racetrack just behind it as drivers and pit crews practiced in preparation for the races slated to begin in two days’ time. He thanked the man and proffered a generous tip, then set off towards the row of luxury and sports cars parked in the small lot to the left of the doors.

            Elliot’s Aston Martin stood out like a smoky jewel among the brightly colored Ferraris and sleek Porsches parked around it. Its shimmering, mist-grey body was spotless and impeccably finished, crouching over its tires like an eager predator waiting to hunt. As Elliot unlocked the door and slid inside the smell of oiled leather drafted up around him. He inhaled deeply of the soothingly familiar scent and ran a hand lovingly over the carbon black steering wheel. He smiled in satisfaction as he turned the key and the engine roared smoothly to life. The car eased into wakefulness as Elliot backed out of his parking spot and turned onto the boulevard outside the hotel.

The sun had long set and post-twilight teal filled the sky. A few clouds staggered in leftover orange and gold out over the ocean and a smattering of stars had already begun to bloom behind them. The drive was meant to be a short one, and a scant five minutes after he’d pulled out of his parking place an illuminated sign reading “Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes” beckoned him to the left. He flipped on his blinker and turned to check for the presence of other drivers, already steeling himself for several drawn-out hours of public chit-chat and panicky glances to check for the presence of the ex-MI6 agents already on his trail. When he glanced over his shoulder he found the road behind him all but empty, the wide lanes of the Avenue de Libertador unoccupied by the usual crowd of tourist busses and honking locals. He hesitated, then flipped the blinker off and turned back to the road. A smile flitted onto his face as he zoomed past the sign.

“Ten minutes,” he said aloud to himself. “I can be ten minutes late.”

Elliot exhaled deeply. He could feel slight, almost childish giddiness at his own desertion of propriety rising in his chest, eking away at the perpetual nibbling presence of stress on his shoulders. The coast stretched away to his right, and he absently shifted his course to follow it out along a deserted beach road. He hesitated, then rolled down the window to allow the rich seaside air to fill his lungs and whip through his hair. The coastal air flooded through the window, carrying with it the smell and taste of salt and the distant echoes of seagulls’ cries and waves rolling up onto the shore.

Elliot glanced at his watch and smiled. _They’ll be broadcasting the opera in New York City about now..._ He flipped on the sound system to listen and a woman’s voice speaking in quick Spanish flooded up through the radio.

“-remarkably none are dead, and only four injured in the bombing of the Don Julio Parilla restaurant just half an hour ago. The attacker remains unidentified, but members of the restaurant staff have begun to affirm claims that the bartender on duty at the time of the attack was unfamiliar to them. Police suspect a possible connection to a string of terrorist attacks targeting the world’s wealthy elite over the course of the last year. Tourists are encouraged to remain inside and away from large landmarks. As of yet no changes to the race schedule are-“

Elliot flipped the dial to change the station. “Nope. No responsibility.” He glanced at his watch. “Seven more minutes of no responsibility.”

As the frequency settled onto a different channel the hauntingly somber refrains of an aria from Wagner’s _The Flying Dutchman_ drifted up to fill the car.

“There we go...” Elliot murmured. He began to tap the side of his thumb against the steering wheel along with the beat and whisper snippets of the familiar German lyrics in time with the singer. The orchestra’s performance and the vocalist’s enrapturing baritone captivated Elliot, and though his attention remained mostly devoted to the road the more artistic part of his mind wandered through the nuances of conducting and orchestration that so boldly defined the familiar piece of music.

A roaring from the road ahead gradually and fiercely began to intrude upon Elliot’s reverent analysis of the opera. Its source became apparent as he drove – a bare and coughing station wagon with dents and scrapes shrieking along one side and a wildly cracked windshield, traveling in the opposite direction down the road. The driver clearly had no care whatsoever for the vehicle’s raggedness or their own safety, and wove recklessly down the road avoiding potholes and swerving between lanes. A surge of protectiveness for his own vehicle spurred Elliot to flip on his blinker and switch lanes to get away from the approaching firestorm. He barely made it into the other lane before the approaching car whammed past with a blast of sound and a sharp crackle as part of one of the half-ruined back windows finally flew free.

Elliot gave a disdainful look to the man behind the wheel, though he hardly had time to take in his looks beyond noting his height and that his face was set in grim anger. He watched in the rear-view mirror as the rapidly deteriorating vehicle jerked off of its current path and onto a road leading back to the city. The sight of the change of course made Elliot look down at his watch. Almost seven minutes had passed since his decision to rebel and arrive at the party late. _Three minutes to get back..._ He glanced around to make sure the road was empty. Finding no one in sight he shifted his focus, devoting all of it, laser-like, to the road in front of him and the smooth road beneath. _I really haven’t spent as much time practicing for the races as I should..._ he told himself.

“Better late than never, I guess,” he said with a slight smile.

He waited another second until he reached a gravelly pull out with a scenic view of the nearby crashing waves and Buenos Aires beaches. Spotting no tourists there and only two parked cars he judged it safe and turned sharply to use the widening of the road as grounds for a quick U turn. The fluid maneuver was second-nature by now and with two sharp cranks of the steering wheel Elliot found himself on the opposite side of the road, now facing the city. He stilled there for the few seconds it took the window to close, coaching his breathing into slow evenness and his focus into intent, laser-like devotion on the road. The soft thump of the window closing was Elliot’s starting horn, and the second he heard it he pressed his foot smoothly and quickly down onto the gas pedal.

The car surged forward; over 500 horsepower propelling it back towards the city in a liquid-smooth ramping up of speed. Familiar ease and confidence filtered through Elliot’s blood, widening his smile and loosening his hand on the gear shift. He waited until instinct and a slight kick in the engine dictated it time and then shifted gears to send the car bursting forward with a newly awakened velocity. The road melted away beneath him and even the vast ocean out the driver’s side window blurred with the speed of the car’s movement. Elated calm settled over Elliot as he continued to speed up and he relaxed even further in his seat, still humming easily along with the Wagner melody drifting up from the sound system.

The turnoff back onto the Avenue de Libertador rushed up to meet him within 90 seconds. He slowed slightly and shifted gears to make the bank back up onto the wide road. The boulevard’s lanes remained mostly empty, though the waterfront restaurants and cafes were beginning to grow crowded as evening approached and the festivity of nighttime dancing and drinking along with it. The roar of his engine attracted attention of the strangers gathering in the humid twilight, and a few whistles and drunken cheers accompanied him as he continued down the road through the city.

A wide stretch of road marking the entrance to the Jardin Japonés provided a perfect opportunity for a turn back towards his destination. Elliot shifted gears and slowed slightly to take the turn, but rapidly recovered speed as the road evened out once more. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the decrepit station wagon he’d encountered on the coastal road a few hundred yards ahead of him and he found himself pressing down on the gas pedal.

_This is something Oz would do..._ half of his brain whispered. But he reasoned that in voluntarily being late for an important party and nearly fighting a pen for tapping in his hand within the span of a single hour he’d already compromised the evening’s allotted amount of personal respect and internal dignity. So when the car’s speed evened out at a cool 80 miles per hour Elliot hardly hesitated to shift gears and send his car’s velocity rocketing up to something nearing triple digits.

Between the higher performance of his engine and his far more expert driving, Elliot caught up to the station wagon in a matter of seconds. He deliberately switched lanes to get close as he came up just behind it, and shifted gears once more to speed up further as he passed and overtook it. Smug satisfaction made him smirk as the station wagon’s driver jerked into the far right lane to avoid him. Another piece of glass gave up the ghost and cracked away onto the road as he did. _Serves you right for almost damaging my car,_ Elliot thought with a slight but definitive nod.

Though the adrenaline rush of speed and recklessness still hadn’t faded Elliot forced himself to slow as he reached the glowing sign beckoning him to the Museo des Bellas Artes once more. He let out a long sigh and rolled his shoulders to shrug off the competitive fire that had roared up in him the moment he’d caught sight of the station wagon.

Elliot drove slowly down the long drive up to the museum’s back entrance, which wound through its grounds and gardens. The stillness and hunch of darkened hedges and bubbling fountains served to remove him from his racing mentality and by the time he neared the entrance where valet line stretching back through the gardens he found himself once more entirely settled in the present. He guided his car out of the line and cruised up to the front doors. A surprised valet in a smart uniform approached the car and gestured for Elliot to lower his window.

“Excuse me, sir, the line...” He gestured back to the dozen or so waiting cars with chauffeurs sitting boredly in the drivers’ seats reading newspapers or chatting on their phones.

Elliot shook his head. “I’ll park it myself...Can you tell me where to go, please?” he asked with a polite smile.

The valet’s surprise deepened. “Uh...” He looked up and around. “There’s...The lot’s that way, around the side of the building, towards that large sculpture garden. We’re parking cars by color, if you don’t mind...”

“Not at all.” Elliot reached over onto the seat and picked up his jacket. He pulled a 1000 Argentine peso note out of the wallet in its pocket and offered it to the valet. “Thank you. I’ll drop the keys at the podium by the door.”

The valet stammered out a thank you for the unwarranted tip and backed away a few steps to give Elliot room to drive. He piloted his car expertly through the slight cluster and confusion of the main entrance where drivers were passing off their keys and giving driving instructions to the valets, and made his way to the parking lot. As the man at the door had promised the cars were parked in neat rows and arranged by color. Elliot couldn’t help a chuckle as he drove along a spectrum of black and grey cars in search of a parking spot. The valets’ nervousness at driving such expensive and powerful cars was evident in large amounts of space left on either side of each vehicle, which made for easy parking and lessened the risk of damage to them. Elliot slipped into a space at the current end of the row of grey cars and shut off his engine. He reached into the driver’s seat for his jacket and checked his appearance in the rear view mirror. After a few cursory adjustments to his hair and a final straightening of his bow tie he stepped out of the car, carefully locked it, and shrugged on his jacket as he made his way back towards the party.

He handed off his keys and tipped the valet at the podium when he reached it, then took a deep breath and began to make his way up the stairs towards the grand ballroom. Several people passing up or down the stairs on either side recognized Elliot but he hardly gave them more than a wave and a smile. His attention had already been diverted into a state of laser-like focus once more, even his internal voice having centered itself on the task at hand. _I’ll finally see the diamond tonight. Evaluating the security surrounding it shouldn’t be too difficult, and with Leo’s abilities extracting it shouldn’t take more than one well-planned break in during the main grand prix event while everyone’s distracted. This is going to be fine. Even if those agents do show up again we have enough intel to blackmail them before they have the chance to pin us. And if that doesn’t work as long as Leo catches them at long range he’ll be able to take them out no problem._

Elliot’s eye was drawn along the top of the stairway to one of the sweeping columns that flanked the entrance to the museum’s main hall. His gaze snagged on a man standing with his back to the rosy marble, a cigarette between his lips and a Collins glass in hand. A few loose curls of familiar black hair cast free of a low ponytail and a set of piercing amber eyes unrelentingly scanning the crowd made Elliot stop in his tracks. _I see Raven isn’t fucking around tonight..._

Despite himself a flicker of worry rose up to prickle at Elliot as he watched Raven. Anxiety nipped sharply at the back of his neck. _He never looks visibly nervous. If he isn’t fucking around that means there’s something to watch out for._ He hesitated, then made his way towards the pillar.

Raven caught him in his sights within half a heartbeat, and Elliot found himself suddenly nervous. All the powerful danger that was usually hidden beneath Raven’s sweet, somewhat shy, and hard-working demeanor had awoken and hung about him like a pair of gaunt wings. He raised a hand and gave a hesitant wave. “Hello, Mr. Richardson...I didn’t expect to see you here. Mr. Vessalius isn’t usually one for the arts,” he said with what he hoped was a put-together smile.

Raven exhaled a cloud of smoke before replying. “Maybe not. But he’s never one to pass up an opportunity to flaunt himself in public, either,” he said with a flicker of a smile.

Something about his voice struck Elliot, though it took him a full second of silent contemplation to place it. _An accent...? I didn’t notice last night at the party but you can hear an accent in his voice now...I wonder when that started._ He leaned in a little closer and lifted his wrist like he was showing Raven his watch. “Raven, you look like you kno-“

“Don’t call me that in public!” Raven interrupted in a violent hiss of a whisper. He glanced nervously around as though expecting someone. His heel began to tap on the ground beside the column. His gaze snapped to Elliot. “What do you want, Elliot? You’re not here to stand outside the ballroom with your least favorite person on earth’s valet,” he said sharply.

“I...” Elliot’s resolve began to quake beneath Raven’s fierceness. He glanced over his shoulder as Raven began to track a middle-aged man in a well-tailored suit with his eyes. Elliot’s voice hardened and his brow furrowed. “You look like you know something’s going to happen. I want to know what it is.”

Raven took a last drag from his cigarette then discarded the butt in an ashtray behind him. He looked down at his glass and sighed in disappointment at its emptiness. “Have you heard Charlotte Villars is in town?” he finally asked.

“Only rumors...” Elliot said quietly. Dread settled over him as Raven shook his head.

“Oz ran into her last night.” Raven’s voice grew grave and his face melted into a mask of concern and slight fear. “And there she goes now.”

“ _What?_ ” Elliot hissed. He looked over his shoulder, then turned entirely to face the staircase as he caught sight of Charlotte. Her face was shocked icy-pale by a deep crimson bow of lipstick on her mouth and a glowing ruby necklace drooping across her ample bust. The clingy black gown she wore glittered with crystals that set it winking and flickering like a mirage in time with her lithe movements. The effect was echoed by ruby and crystal pins tucked into a braided section of her hair, which she wore pinned away from her face but still loose and falling down her back.

Her supernaturally large eyes were framed by a ring of smoky shadow and thick liner that made them seem half-lidded and desirous. Onlookers waiting to enter the party, men and women alike, watched her slink upwards like a tigress, her lengthy skirt curled delicately in one hand to keep it from getting in her way as she climbed. She seemed to feed on each lust-ridden stare, growing larger and sleeker and more alluring the more of them she collected.

By the time Charlotte reached the top of the stairs her gaze was already fixated on Elliot and Raven. Elliot took a step backwards as she reached the landing, seeking some indistinct shelter in Raven. As Charlotte countered with a step forward Raven’s hand slipped silently and unobtrusively into his jacket pocket. Despite his unease Elliot spared a moment for a flicker of surprise as Raven leaned towards him at Charlotte’s continued approach.

As she drew near the light tugged different angles of her expression and revealed that despite her heavy makeup and the flirty smile on her face Charlotte’s eyes had retained an inhuman wildness, like a need to hunt. “Elliot Nightray!” she said with a feigned gasp. A camera flashed to her right and she turned with a coquettish giggle and a smile in time to pose for the photographer’s second picture, her head tossed back slightly and her lips parted. She turned back to Elliot and her look grew cunning in an instant. “You’re looking very handsome in your family’s colors tonight, aren’t you? I’m not so sure how your father would feel about that, all things considered...”

Elliot bristled. The years of strict training in decorous behavior that his family had forced upon him were all that kept him from snapping. Instead he offered a terse bow. “Miss Villars. I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Oh, why on earth wouldn’t I be?! It’s such an exciting time of year what with the races and all this business with the purple diamond,” she said with a giggle and a wave of her hand.

Her odd eyes drifted to Raven and her smile widened and grew a touch madder. “Oh! Sweet Gilbert, what a divine pleasure it is to see you!” Her smile oozed sticky and sweet on her lips as she reached out to place a hand on Raven’s upper arm.

He snapped back from the threat of touch like she held a hot brand. “Don’t touch me,” he growled. “And it’s _Mr. Richardson_ to you, Charlotte.”

Lottie’s lip curled. “That implies I owe you some kind of respect.”

Raven flicked his wrist and a throwing knife slid smoothly into his hand from a concealed sheath in his sleeve.

Lottie gave a lulling laugh and put her hands on her hips. Her breasts bounced as she did, and her eyes flicked momentarily to Elliot as she caught him looking. “Propriety, Mr. Nightray,” she said. Her gaze returned to Raven and she looked him up and down. “I do wish you’d get over yourself and be attracted to women...I’d _pay_ for the chance to spend a night alone with you.”

The innuendo in her voice was far from lost on Elliot. He glanced at Raven, and his alertness flared to confusion and slight alarm. Raven’s jaw was set, his shoulders taut, and his free hand slipping a few inches out of his pocket with what appeared to be a folded straight razor in it.

“I could snap you with one fucking hand...” he hissed.

Lottie gave a desirous sigh. “I do like a strong man...” she returned. She turned her attention back to Elliot as Raven opened his mouth to retort. “I didn’t know dear Gilbert was in your service now. You’re in luck. From what I’ve heard he’s _far_ more than a satisfactory bodyguard.”

Raven shoved himself off of the pillar before Lottie had even finished speaking. He whirled on his heel, knives slipping back out of sight, and stalked away across the exterior of the building towards the edge of the party.

The quickness of Raven’s reaction made Elliot jump. A horrifying thought that perhaps Raven’s composure would break and he was intending to attack Lottie clanged through him. His nerves prickled even after Raven turned away towards the nearby museum gardens.

Lottie made a displeased little sound in the back of her throat. “How rude. He didn’t even say goodbye.”

Elliot tipped his head. No amount of self-discipline or distraction could keep a loathing twist from creeping onto his mouth. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Cut the bullshit. What are you doing here? Your interests in the black market have always been more sinister than diamonds.”

Lottie put a finger to her lips. “You should be careful using words like that. You never know who might be listening.”

Elliot blinked slowly. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Lottie smiled and tipped her head. “Reunions,” she conceded. “There are some people here who my benefactor would like to get back in touch with. Old associates, family friends, you know. People like that. The diamond’s just a bonus. And an excuse to get to you and Leo. My benefactor’s family has business with yours, _Nightray_. You’re on my list.”

Elliot’s jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare say my name like that, you bitch,” he snapped.

Lottie’s eyes took on a funhouse-sharp tinge of madness again. “I’ve always admired your temper, you know. You could be vicious if you tried.”

“Stay away from Leo and me or else I might start trying...” Elliot said quietly.

Lottie clicked her tongue. “If it’s a fight you want then by all means bring it on. Between Lily and I and that pair of pesky ex-soldiers on your ass, though, I’m not sure how long you’ll last.” She sighed and slid her weight into one hip, her arms coiling like snakes around her own torso to push her breasts up and together so they nearly spilled from her gown. “Red’s always has been my favorite color. It’ll look so nice with those pretty blue eyes of yours...”

Elliot swallowed a pang of anxiety and set his shoulders. “You should be careful making threats like that. You never know who might be listening,” he said.

An icy smile slashed its way across Charlotte’s face and pinned Elliot to the pillar behind him. “Yes I do.” Elliot opened his mouth to quip a response but Charlotte drew back a step, lashing her trailing skirt behind her like a tail. She glanced over her shoulder. “My date’s here, I’ve got to run. But I’ll be seeing you around, I’m sure. I do hope to catch Leo, too.” She gave Elliot a last pointed, dark and longing look. “Assuming I haven’t already...”

Elliot’s heart seized up in his throat and a shock of adrenaline bolted up through his blood. He swallowed and found his throat constricted around a gathered rock-hard knot of terror, which sent him stepping backwards against the marble pillar.

Lottie hummed in satisfaction. “Don’t get too anxious now. Someone’s going to notice if you aren’t careful.”

Elliot’s eyes remained fixed on Lottie as she strode up to a heavily muscled man approaching her on the stairs. He had silvery red hair and sharply angled eyes, which gave him the look of someone distinctly foreign, only accentuated by the high-collared and somewhat voluminous overcoat he wore. There was something disconcerting about the smoothness of his cheeks, the cause of which became apparent as he drew close. _He’s wearing makeup. To cover up something on his cheek..._ Elliot realized. _There’s no mark where he might be scarred..._ A hesitant line of unaddressed grey-black curled below the man’s jaw and the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. _A tattoo. He’s covering up a tattoo._

The man’s arm slipped out and coiled around Lottie’s waist, where his hand settled. He gripped her hard enough to make her gasp and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Lottie lifted a delicate hand and stroked the back of his cheek, then softened in his grip and let him lead her inside, through the thinning throng of guests.

Intuitive unease kept Elliot pinned back against the pillar as the man passed. For all their narrowness his eyes were beady and harshly perceptive, and his heavy fingers seemed to make meat of all they touched. Musty, eking air followed him, cloyed with the flowery smell of death or lilies. It filled Elliot’s lungs as the couple passed and lingered with him for a full three breaths after they had made their exit.

When the spell finally released him Elliot sagged against the pillar. Someone noticed the movement and reached out to offer a concerned hand. Lottie’s prediction clanged back to haunt him and every muscle in his body violently tensed. He jolted up and took a step back from the concerned stranger, laughing off his concern. “N-No, I’m fine, thank you...” he managed as he forced himself away from the safe haven of the pillar. He looked towards the brightly lit party and then longingly in the direction Raven had vanished, towards isolation and darkness. He took a steadying breath and let it out as a sigh. _Lottie’s just messing with me. Leo’s okay. He had to take his time. He couldn’t afford to be followed. Everything’s **fine**_! He clenched one fist and jammed it into his pocket, then whipped around and hurried into the party. “Focus,” he whispered to himself. “This is important...Dammit, Elliot, focus!” _The sooner we get this fucking diamond the sooner we can get out of here!_

 

* * *

 

The ancient, dented, overworked station wagon coughed and sputtered out of being as Liam stopped on the side of the dirt service road around the back of the Museo des Bellas Artes. It wheezed violently as the gears shifted into park, and gave a sad little cough as Liam kicked it hard beneath the steering column to shut it down.

            Break snorted a laugh. “Elegant.” He pushed the handle of the passenger side door and found it stuck closed. He turned in his seat and kicked it hard until it swung violently open and slammed against its hinges with a squeak of protest.

            “Elegant,” Liam echoed as he climbed through the shattered driver’s side window and alighted on his feet on the dark grass.

            Break fetched his cane from the backseat and walked around the other side of the car. He stopped beside Liam, looking out over the shaded gardens and to the brilliantly lit up museum. “Leo will be here any minute if he isn’t already...That doesn’t give us very long to get inside.”

            “Not long at all...” Liam scanned the gardens, his mouth set in a firm line. “A capable sniper on that roof could take us out in a heartbeat. We won’t be out of range for much longer.”

            Break pointed towards a sculpture garden arcing around the back of the museum as part of its massive grounds, full of frozen humans and animals disfigured into strangeness by the fall of moonlight and illumination from within the building. “That might be our best bet. The statues will stop any bullets fired at us. And if MI6’s intelligence was right and Leo doesn’t use a scope the light will work in our favor, too,” he said quietly.

            Liam stood pensively for a moment, and then nodded. “You’re right.” He scanned the road around them. Finding it empty, he unbuttoned his vest and reached beneath it for the gun in his shoulder holster. He flipped the safety off and held it in both hands, then dropped into a slight crouch to move more silently.

            Break echoed him, slipping a small gun from a holster on his ankle. His finger hovered over the thumbprint reader installed in the handle of his cane, but with a sigh he forced it away. _It’ll just reflect light. That’s no good._ He dropped into a pose similar to Liam’s and nodded for him to lead the way.

            They crept around the garden’s perimeter, a pair of silken shadows flickering through the contrast of dark and moonlight. Break glanced behind them every few paces, and scanned the distant museum’s roof for any sign of movement. The sculpture garden loomed up to meet them after a long few minutes of silent, unguarded creeping along the hedges. When it was within sprinting distance Liam scanned the scene and nodded sharply, and both he and Break dropped their guns and took off running towards two separate statues. Liam slid behind a large impression of a Greek god and Break knelt behind a rearing horse. They sat in complete silence for an extended moment, the air tense with anticipation and wariness. When no sniper fire interrupted the stillness of the night Liam relaxed back onto his heels and looked across an open stretch of grass at Break.

            “I think we beat him,” he whispered. “He’d have taken at least a shot by now if he were here.” Liam’s brow furrowed as he watched Break continuing to study the gardens. “Bonnie...? What’s the matter?”

            Break peered once more around the corner of the statue then dropped his gun to his side and nodded. “Something doesn’t feel right,” he whispered. Certainty dropped onto him as he caught sight of a flash of movement closer to the museum. Coldness followed next, and lethal clarity of mind. “There’s someone else out here,” he whispered.

            Liam’s face settled into ready focus. The tone of Break’s voice and his continued focus on a point ahead of them solidified the truth of the observation. He lifted his hand and waved three fingers at Break. Break’s attention flickered to him and Liam flashed a series of hand signals.

            _You take right flank. I’ll take left. Hold fire until visual confirmation._ Break read the signals effortlessly and nodded to confirm, then raised his own hand to signal back. _I’m switching to blades. Take my pistol._ He pulled the ammunition out of his pistol and flipped the safety on, then made eye contact with Liam. After glancing ahead at the shady garden to make sure no one was watching he tossed first the cartridge and then the empty pistol to Liam.

            Liam caught them deftly. He reloaded Break’s pistol and put it into his shoulder holster, then nodded to Break and flashed a final signal.

            _Move_. Break took a deep breath and then lifted himself onto the balls of his feet to begin creeping around the right-hand side of the statue. He kept one eye on Liam and moved along with him, their parallel paths carrying them from one hiding spot to the next. Another rustle and a soft sound rose from behind a tall bush ahead and Break stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at Liam, who nodded, and then pressed his thumb to the pad atop his cane twice in quick sequence. Its snake-like whip form coiled into being against the grass, and Break gathered it carefully in loops around his clothed forearm. He nodded at Liam when he was ready, and they resumed their stealthy approach towards the patch of deep shade that was concealing the stranger in the garden.

            Break’s heart picked up speed and thundered in his ears as they reached the point at which the moonlight vanished in favor of the museum’s massive shadow. The hidden third person rustled once more in the darkness and Break looked up at Liam, who flashed one more signal. _You go in first. I’ll cover._

            His heartbeat slowed in an instant and he found himself utterly calm. He gave a nod and turned his attention to the darkness and to the vague impression of a human form he could now see curled in it. He uncoiled the whip from around his wrist and let it fall beside him, then after a last deep breath sprang out from behind the statue. Every particle of his attention centered on the unidentified threat ahead of him, and he arrived at its side braced for battle and the sound of gunfire.

            What filled the empty garden instead was a weak scream of utter terror. It echoed around the statues and up against the hedges, full of desperation and hurt.

            The almost inhuman wail set a chill running through Break’s blood and he dropped to the ground, cane now in its rapier form and raised defensively against a possible attack. “Hello...?” he breathed in horror.

            “Oh shit,” Liam said from behind him. He was at Break’s side in half a breath and beyond him in another, kneeling beside the hunched form against the hedges. Another little cry flew from it at the sight of Break’s glinting sword and Liam whipped around. “Put down your weapon! It’s Raven!” he said urgently.

“Raven...” Break dropped his cane to his side, heart still racing, and slid a little closer to Liam. His eyes finally adjusted to the dark and picked out defining features of the shape curled in the grass against one of the hedges. Dark clothes, pale face, eyes dashed coppery black by moonlight. Raven. “Oh Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

            “Raven, Raven, what are you doing out here?” Liam asked. He tossed his gun into the grass beside Break and nodded down to it. “Keep watch,” he said urgently.

            Break picked up the gun in his free hand and sat back in a stable shooting position, already scanning the nearby area for any further signs of intrusion.

            Liam turned back to Raven and reached out to take his shoulders, which were trembling violently. “Raven. _Raven_. Can you hear me, featherhead?”

            Raven heaved an eerily silent sob and reached out with one hand to cling to Liam’s wrist. “Liam, Liam...I-Is it re-real? Is it y-you? Don’t let the-m hu-rt me! Ple-ase d-don’t let the-m hu-rt me!” he gasped, his voice barely louder than a whisper despite its desperation and heavy emotion.

            “Nobody’s going to hurt you,” Liam said firmly. He reached for Raven’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s really me. Liam. Dear heart, look...look...” He stooped low enough that Raven’s eyes, glued on the ground, could still catch his face. As soon as their eyes connected Raven cried out again and launched himself forward against Liam’s chest, wrapping his arms tight against his neck and sobbing hysterically into him, still barely loud enough to be heard.

            “Li-Liam...! L-Li...Lia-m...P-P-Ple-Please...” Raven managed through his tears, his entire body shaking violently. He gave another scream into Liam’s neck as a wave of panic passed through him.

            “I’ve got you...I’ve got you...Breathe, Raven. Breathe. There you go...” He rubbed a hand up and down Raven’s back in a slow, easy pattern and slowed his own inhales and exhales to a pace for Raven to match. “There you go...Slow down...You’re safe. Nobody’s out here but us. I’ve got you,” he murmured, rocking Raven gently as he did.

            Break narrowed his eyes to search the dark. His head swiveled slowly back and forth, like a hunting snake’s. Raven’s crying reached him through a veil of seriousness in the face of the possible threat lurking in every twist of light and barb of shadow surrounding them.“Raven, what am I looking out for?” he asked quietly. “Who scared you? Who am I protecting you from?”

            “S-S-Scar...” Raven choked and half retched. His torso convulsed with a fit of coughing and he clung to Liam, gasping for air. “Help...” he whimpered.

            Alarm bells went off in Break’s head and he whipped around to face Raven. “Scarlet?” he asked urgently. His eyes met Liam’s. “Is that what you’re trying to say? Is it Scarlet, Raven?”

            Raven sobbed and curled further into Liam’s chest. “I l-l-li-lied...” he whimpers. “Earlier I s-sa-said I didn’t k-know...but Oz doesn’t ha-have a cousin named Lottie. The-There’s only Cha-Charlotte Vil-lars...S-She goes by Scarlet. She’s...She’s here and she...she...!”

            Liam and Break’s eyes remained locked as Liam continued to hold Raven through his tears. “Raven, is Charlotte Villars inside that party right now?” Liam asked, quiet and stony-serious.

            “Y-Yes...” Raven replied weakly.

            A lance of cold dread went through Break. “Is she alone? Is there another woman with her?” he asked.

            Liam furrowed his brow and turned to look at Break. “Another woman?” he murmured. “What other woman?”

            Break’s reply was cut off as Raven heaved a gasp and pulled himself backwards out of Liam’s arms. “Al-lone...Oz is in there! _He’s_ al-lone. I have to get back...I have to p-prot-tect him!” His knees gave out as he leaned backwards, sending him sprawling onto the ground, still sobbing hard.

            “Jesus Christ,” Liam blurted. He leaned down over Raven to try and pull him up from where he now lay. “Raven...Raven, can you hear me? What did she do to you? What did Scarlet do to you?” he asked.

            “I can’t stop remembering!” Raven cried out again and curled in on himself, hands tearing at his hair and knees right against his chest. “Help me!” He screamed, his voice muffled into shrieking dissonance by his knees.

            A shiver slid up Break’s spine and Liam flinched back violently. Liam recovered in an instant and dropped onto his side on the ground, curling up beside Raven and pressing the back of his hand to the outside of Raven’s forearm. “Raven, I’m here. _Raven_.” Raven sobbed hard and extended one terrified hand to clutch at the lapel of Liam’s shirt, the nearest piece of clothing he could reach.

            “Don’t l-leave me alo-ne plea-please I do-don’t want to...to b-be hurt again...” His voice trembled with his next words, frail and fragile as a dying wind. “I d-don’t want t-to be raped...”

            Liam’s breath caught. “Raven, nobody’s going to get you. I promise. Not while I’m here,” he murmured.

            “I’m s-sc-scared...” Raven whimpered.

            “I know...I know...” Liam soothed. He reached out and began to stroke Raven’s hair gently. “But I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

            Raven sobbed weakly into his hands. “Y-Yo-You’re so good...Like a-an angel...” He whispered.

            Break considered Liam and Raven on the ground, then looked back up and around the garden, searching the dark with paranoid alertness. “Liam, this isn’t good...” he murmured.

            Liam read the tone in Break’s voice and looked over his shoulder at him. “She’s got to go,” he said in the same serious, lethally sharp tone. He ran a hand through Raven’s hair and looked down into his terrified, pleading eyes. “Nobody hurts my best friend and gets away with it. Nobody.”

            Raven’s mouth fell open but no sound emerged. His face flickered through a kaleidoscopic bedlam of different emotions and finally settled on conflicted apology and gratefulness. “I’m sorry...” he whispered.

            Liam shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. Now let’s get you somewhere safe, alright? Come on...” He withdrew a little and took Raven’s elbows to help pull him to his feet.

            “No!” Raven protested, sinking fully back onto the ground and forcing Liam down beside him. “Oz! Oz i-is in there! I’m not leaving him!” he cried sharply. His lip quivered and he hung his head. “B-But I ca-can’t go ba-ck in there...”

            Liam drew a deep breath and looked around, tense as the sound of Raven’s cries alerted enemies to their location once more. “Do you want us to get him out?” he asked.

            Raven’s eyes lifted to Liam’s and searched his face. Finally he curled in on himself and gave him a weak nod. “I’m s-so-sorry...” he whimpered again.

            “You’re alright, Raven.” Liam began rubbing Raven’s back in long, firm strokes. “Just breathe...breathe while we figure this out...” he said.

            Break watched them for a heartbeat then resumed his survey of the shady grounds. “What’s the plan, Liam?”

            Liam’s eyes and Break’s connected as Break’s head swiveled to study the darkness behind Raven. His rustic charm and wit had fallen away in place of 001’s battle-ready determination. The friendly tilt to his almond-shaped eyes had become a firm angle of determination and the jovial upturn of his lips a cutting line. “I’m staying with Raven. You blend in better with the statues in the garden anyway. If Leo really is up on the roof it’ll be harder for him to spot you than me.”

            “H-He’s n-not...”

            Liam and Break considered each other for a long moment and then both looked down at Raven. “What do you mean he’s not?” Break asked. “Did you kill him?”

            “No!” Raven gasped in affronted horror. “No! Never!” He watched Liam and Break’s eyes flicker and folded in on himself once again. “I...I’m sorry. He’s...I...I wouldn’t kill him. He’s my friend...” he admitted hoarsely.

            “Your friend?” Liam asked in disbelief.

            Break tipped his head as Raven began to stammer an explanation. “But you didn’t even try to stop Liam and I from hunting him tonight?” he asked.

            “No...” Raven shook his head and pounded the heels of his hands against his forehead. “It’s all fucked up! It’s all wrong! I just wanted to keep you all safe...This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to chase Leo and I was supposed to take care of Scarlet so she couldn’t hurt you. But...But she...she’s so much like Z-Zai...! The second she looked at me I was worthless again. I failed. I didn’t think of everything.” The words weighed on Raven and his shoulders slumped further. His voice grew quiet and disparaging as he spoke again. “About five minutes before you two got here I got a distress call from Leo.” He reached up and pulled a gold ear cuff from his right ear. A small red light on it winked on and off in quick blinks. “We use these to com-municate. There’s a button on the back. When one of us is in trouble we press it and it sends a signal for help to the other. It’s...” He held out his hands towards Liam in a somber gesture, cupping the ear cuff in them like a broken bird. “It’s going off...” he whispered.

            The implication in Raven’s voice settled over Liam. Break watched the several flickers of his face as choices and scenarios weighed themselves in his head. “I...” His voice trailed off and he looked away in confusion.

            “Liam.” Liam looked up at Break and he nodded. “You know it’s worth it.”

            “He tried to kill you...” Liam protested softly.

            Break nodded to Raven. “So did he.” He turned his eyes on Raven and gave him a little smile. “But here we are.”

            Raven nodded a bit hesitantly. “That’s right...” He looked up at Liam, encouraged by the gesture of support from Break. “Here we are,” he echoed with a nod.

            Liam looked between them, then sighed and sat back on his heels. “Alright then. We’ll help him.”

            Raven’s mouth dropped open in surprise and gratitude and he let his head hang and a heavy, relieved sigh of a sob escaped him. “Thank you...Thank you so much...” he whispered.

            Liam’s demeanor shifted out of protective and gentle and back to calm and battle-ready. “That distress call doesn’t seem to be all that specific,” he said. “What sort of trouble do you think Leo’s in?”

            “I...I don’t know...” Raven said timidly.

            Break watched Raven’s hand clench into a fist and his eyes flicker downwards as he spoke. _Lying_. His eyes narrowed as the thought flared in his head.

            Liam considered him in silence. “Are you certain?” he asked quietly.

            “I-I’m certain...” Raven said with a nod. “I don’t know...”

            Liam opened his mouth once more but Break cut him off. “We don’t have time for this. This is a crisis scenario, Liam. Each second brings us closer to losing everything,” he said. “And Raven’s never given us any reason not to trust him.”

            Liam paused briefly then nodded. “You’re right. Okay. So there’s two of us and two tasks at hand. Get Oz and help Raven find Leo. I want to stay with Raven,” he said.

            Break spoke up in protest before Raven could. “I’m a million times more recognizable than you are, Liam. Hunter was able to find out what we looked like, so I bet Scarlet knows, too. If I go and she spots me we’ll be alerting her to the fact that we’re here and that we’re onto her. It’s safer if I go with Raven and you stay here.” He craned his neck to consider the glowing building beyond the gardens.

            “But...” Worry clouded Liam’s expression as he turned to Raven. “Are you going to be alright without me?” he asked.

            Raven considered Liam for a long moment then finally nodded, albeit stiffly. “Y-Yes...I...I’ll be okay with Break.” He looked over his shoulder. “But please...please we _have_ to hurry.”

            “Right.” Liam reached out and pulled Raven into a hug. “How am I going to find you?” he asked as he drew away.

            “Oz’s pocket watch. There’s a small computer in it that’ll ping his location if I prompt it from my watch and lead me there,” Raven replied. He gave Liam a final, grateful smile. “Thank you, Liam...Thank you.”

            Liam rose. “You’re welcome, Raven. Be safe.” He rose to his feet and walked to Break, who rose to meet him. “You too, Break. Watch out for him.”

            Break tipped his head back as Liam lifted his chin and kissed him briefly. “Watch your back.” Liam moved to go but Break caught his wrist with one hand and looked him in the eyes. “Get Elliot, too. Not just Oz.”

            Liam nodded. “I will, bonnie.” He bent to kiss Break again, more deeply this time. “I love you.”

            Break smiled up at him. “I love you too.” His hands dropped to Liam’s chest and he pushed him away. “Go kick ass. I’ll see you soon.”

            Liam nodded to him and to Raven once more, then dropped low into a crouch and slid off through the dark and towards the museum.

            A few seconds of silence passed as Liam passed out of earshot. “We should get moving,” Break finally murmured. He turned his attention from Raven to continue scanning the dark around them.

            “Break...Do you know?” Raven asked in a bare whisper.

            Break’s brow furrowed instantly and he turned to Raven with a look of confusion on his face. “Know what?”

            Raven studied him. “You mentioned another woman when I was talking about Charlotte being inside.” Break opened his mouth to reply but Raven spoke over him. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to trust someone. Or you’re going to end up backed into a corner all by yourself with nobody to help you,” he said sharply.

            Raven’s words clanged through Break’s head and he fell silent, still staring off into the night. “Liam’s not the only one who worked undercover for MI6,” he finally admitted. “I spent time with a family connected to the Villars for over a year, observing and trying to penetrate the organization they stem from. My director pulled me out when the mission got too intense, but not before I had the chance to meet Charlotte and Lily.”

            “But...the way Liam talks...it seems like he doesn’t know that...” Raven prodded.

            “He doesn’t.” Break said firmly.

            “Why not...?” Raven asked hesitantly.

            “The mission went bad. Before MI6 could pull me out I had to do things for the family that aren’t strictly legal. And that certainly wouldn’t agree with Liam’s just and honest sensibilities. It’s a rabbit hole I don’t want to go down with him. And one I don’t want to go down with you, either.” He jammed his gun back into its holster and turned from Raven to study their path away from the museum. “This isn’t important. Where’s Leo’s distress signal coming from?”

            “Break...” Raven’s voice trailed off as Break’s back remained turned to him. He shook his head and took his phone out of his pocket. A quick scan of the ear cuff across the RFID scanner on the back of the device popped up a map of the city on the screen with Leo’s location illuminated as a pulsing purple beam. “He’s here.”

            Break glanced at the screen. “You lead the way. I have a terrible sense of direction and we’re running _very_ short on time.” He looked up at Raven. “Besides, you don’t seem overly fond of the idea of going along with another of my plans any time soon.”

            Raven coughed a laugh from between his teeth. “You can say that again.” He tapped his phone against his watch and the LCD screen hidden in the glass darkened and began to project the map onto his wrist. He tucked his phone back in his pocket and reached up beneath the back of his jacket for something. A momentary pause and a sharp tug later and a stiletto blade nearly as long as his forearm slid from its hidden sheath on his back and into the light. He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet and crept through the statue garden away from the museum without pausing to see whether Break was following.

            Break shifted his cane into its lethal, whip-like form and wrapped it delicately around his forearm in a few looses loops, then jogged off after Raven.

            When the wall surrounding the gardens was a few yards away Raven broke into a run. He tucked his knife back up into his sheath as he sprinted for the wall, and by the time he reached it had both hands free. He took a flying jump and clamped his hands around the top edge of the wall then levered himself up onto it by virtue of the strength of his arms alone.

            Break reached the wall just as Raven turned with one arm extended downwards to him. He took a deep breath and launched himself upwards, one foot catching on a slightly protruding brick. He reached up with his unarmed hand and caught Raven’s wrist perfectly. Raven pulled him up beside him and he nodded a thank you as they dropped onto the other side of the wall and crept towards the mess of dark alleys and shabbily illuminated apartment buildings and restaurants waiting ahead of them.

            “Raven, have you seen Lily fight before? Do you know how she does it?” Break asked, quiet but urgent.

            Raven’s jaw tensed. “Yes.” He made no move to elaborate or slow his pace at all in light of the question.

            Break smirked. “I assume that’s not a rabbit hole you want to go down?” he asked.

            “Not if I don’t have to,” Raven said curtly.

            They fell into quiet once more, trained eyes scanning one another’s blind spots for signs of trouble. Raven’s watch continued to guide them, offering a mild ping every now and then to correct missteps and incorrect headings. After a few indistinct, tensed minutes a glimpse of flashing through the network of streets to their right caught Break’s attention. The blaring red and white of police car lights and the smell of smoke made him stop in his tracks.

            “Raven, that’s the restaurant,” he whispered. “The restaurant where Liam and I ran into Leo. We must be getting close.”

            “We are,” Raven affirmed with a nod at his watch. “Just a few blocks...”

            Break held his breath as they crept on, acutely alert of every sound and shifting glimpse of a rat or street cat lurking through the dark around them. Unease snuck up his spine and clamped around his throat like a clawed hand as the streets around them grew danker and more narrow, home now to shoddy, mostly unoccupied apartments and cheap hotels with their windows darkened. Raven’s watch produced a sudden burst of purple light and then went dark. Deep, uncompromising darkness swam up around Break and Raven instantly, and on instinct they backed against the nearest wall, eyes trained in opposite directions. “What the hell was that?” Break hissed.

            “He’s...He’s here somewhere...This is it. This is where it was leading...” Raven whispered desperately. He raised his voice just a little to call out into the dark. “Leo? Лев?”

As Break’s eyes adjusted to the dark a hulking shape he had mistaken for a pile of trash rearranged itself into the back portion of a motorcycle. One whose perfectly shined, sleek black body he recognized. He swallowed a lump of terror and raised his own voice to call into the dark. “Leo?”

Time slowed to a crawl and Break’s breath jerked to a halt as something large shifted from the ground a few yards ahead of them, near the junction of two walls. It hauled itself through the shadows towards them, staggering and weak. Break’s hand shot out and grabbed Raven’s elbow to alert him and he whipped around, knife raised. It fell almost instantly as disbelief rose up to combat the terror in his pounding heart. “Leo...?”

The limping form shed the clingy shadows of the corner and coalesced into Leo. His eyes were wide and strangely illuminated in the darkness, and his mouth hung slightly open in a look of shock and pain. His violet dress was stained and tarnished, and his hair tangled out of perfect curls and into muddy knots that dripped water down his back and chest. His arms were covered in little scratches and sharp bite marks. A single deep red puncture wound no bigger than a fingertip marred one side of his jugular vein, and a little ooze of blood ran from it.

Leo came to a stop as he caught sight of Raven and Break and his lips parted in a failed attempt at speech. Finally he settled for a soft shake of his head and a turn of his hands outwards. Then his weakened legs gave out once more. He sprawled to the side, his head smacking the stones hard and his body limp in unconsciousness.

 

* * *

  

The luxurious brightness of the crowd gathered beyond the doors brought a degree of comfort to Elliot in its sheer familiarity. Opulent gatherings of the world’s wealthy had been a staple of his childhood, and as such the kaleidoscope of evening attire and half-laughter sprinkled through decorous conversation welcomed him like a harbor. He could feel himself melding with the crowd of similar-looking people and becoming inconspicuous as a result. The sensation of anonymity was refreshing after the puncture of Charlotte’s attention.

Elliot took a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter and gave him a nod of thanks. Attempting to make out individual flavors among the fine blend of sharp and subtle notes in the glass gave him something to focus on as he made his way around the foyer towards the currently empty podium where the massive purple diamond would stand once it had been brought out. Another in a long series of checks on his watch left Elliot’s skin prickling. _Just a few more minutes and they should be starting. Distract yourself. Count the number of women pissed that they’re wearing the same Christian Dior diamond choker._ He found himself before the bar and leaned against it. “...two...no, there’s another...four...” he murmured.

As his eyes skated between clusters of fellow partygoers, Elliot’s face fell. He caught sight of Oz sauntering between several groups, every inch of him radiating sunny, flirty charm. Oz’s usual vagrant dissent of polite custom was evident in his choice of attire, for though he’d had the good sense to come to the party in a black tuxedo, slashes of color marred it into ostentatiousness. A turquoise cummerbund was visible beneath his jacket, which matched a bowtie of the same hue tied about his throat. As Oz put his hand in his pocket and leaned his weight into one hip it became apparent that his jacket, too, was lined with vibrant silk in the same color. Elliot grumbled to himself as he watched Oz run his hand through his hair in the midst of his conversation, tousling it even further out of any sort of comprehensible or proper style.

Oz spotted Elliot looking at him as he turned from the woman he’d been conversing with. He gave a forcibly energetic gasp and a bright wave and cut directly across the party from where he’d been standing to make his way towards Elliot. He plucked a glass of champagne from a tall table on his way to the bar, and raised it in a toast as he approached. “Well look at you all dressed up! I like what you’ve done with the stick up your ass. Solid gold really was a good choice for an event like this,” he said.

Elliot watched Oz over the rim of his glass as he drank. “You know if you’re not careful people are going to start thinking you’re obsessed with me, with how often you’re around,” he said pointedly.

Oz blinked in surprise and visibly searched for something to say. Elliot gave a smug smile and finished off his glass of wine, pleased by the quick turn of phrase. _Usually those things don’t come to me until hours later. Look at his stupid face..._ He set his glass on the bar and looked Oz up and down. “Are you even _legal_ , Vessalius? Aren’t you, what, about sixteen years old? I’m surprised they even let you into this party.”

“I am _eighteen_ ,” Oz fired back, undignified.

“Ha!” Elliot waved a hand. “Oh, teenagers.” He sighed and shook his head. “Silly, silly teenagers.”

“You’re only a year and a half older than I am!” Oz hissed. “Don’t go acting all high-and-mighty.” He turned back to the party and raised his glass to finish his champagne. A little coil of a smile perked up at the right-hand corner of his mouth. “Nightgay,” he muttered to himself over his glass.

Elliot nearly spat out his sip of wine. He spluttered and coughed and then turned sharply to face Oz. ”I’m _sorry?!_ ”

Oz set down his empty glass on the bar behind him amid a fit of giggles. He turned to look at Elliot with a childishly large smile on his face. “You heard me. I said Nightgay. Elliot Nightgay. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“W-What?!” Elliot drew back, aghast and ruffled. A moment of uncertainty and confusion set his mind whirling through a roulette wheel of emotions, which finally settled on anger. His brow furrowed and he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “How dare you! How dare you slander my family name like that!”

Oz took a seat at the bar and crossed his legs. He stared out at the party whistling to himself, completely ignoring Elliot’s continued wrath.

“Oz! _Oz!_ I am talking to you!” Elliot insisted. His fists clenched tighter. _Don’t you dare make a scene. Keep it together. He’s just trying to piss you off._

Oz turned nonchalantly towards Elliot, seeming to hear him for the first time.

“Oh, are you? Sorry, all the repressed homosexual feelings for your valet swimming around you are making it kind of hard to hear you,” Oz said with a wicked smirk.

Elliot’s face flushed beet-red and his shoulders stiffened. “I-I’m not...I’m not...I don’t like him like that!” he blurted.

Oz raised an eyebrow and tapped his foot in the air. “Your stammering’s doing wonders to convince me,” he said.

Elliot shook his head and dismissed Oz with a wave. “You know what. Fuck you! I don’t have anything to prove to you, Vessalius! Just crawl back into the data cloud from whence you came and leave me alone. I’m trying to focus here!”

“On your impending proposal?” Oz’s voice dropped low and he leaned close to Elliot. “I mean I’m just saying, you _are_ here for a diamond...Subliminating something there?”

Elliot’s blush grew, but he shoehorned the embarrassment beneath his prickly defensiveness. “Oh I’ll subliminate something alright. Your fucking head. Now get out of here! Shoo!”

Oz snorted as Elliot waved his hands at him in a ridiculous shooing motion. “Nice try.”

Elliot opened his mouth to fire off another insult, but was interrupted by the appearance of a grey-haired, dignified-looking man in a black tuxedo on a podium in the center of the museum’s foyer. Elliot and Oz’s conversation petered out as the crowd began to applaud politely for the man on the raised stage-like area in the center of the foyer, who bowed and nodded in thanks before stepping up to the podium. He waved to a few familiar faces in the gallery and around the crowd, then cleared his throat and began to speak in eloquent and accented English.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am Dr. William Banks from the Royal Geological Institute in London, and tonight I’m proud to present to you my institution’s greatest triumph. The diamond that will be on display here for the duration of this month is the first of its kind. All of its coloring is natural, and as a result represents a miraculous geological discovery. Purple diamonds have only been found in nature in microscopic amounts, and yet here we have a rock that weighs nearly five pounds.” The audience clapped again and the man paused to allow the applause to peter out. “Our institution has received offers to purchase the stone ranging well into the millions of British pounds, and though these offers are certainly tempting it is the decision of our director that the purple diamond will remain in our care for scientific study, and will be distributed among some of the world’s greatest museums in pieces after our research is complete.” Another flurry of applause interrupted the man and he nodded and smiled through it. “For the time being she remains whole and in her natural uncut state.” The man nodded to two men beside him, who approached a locked steel box that had been sitting on the stage since the party began. “In light of her beauty and endurance the other members of the discovery team and I have chosen to christen her ‘Forever’.” He gave a nod to the men beside the box. “Enjoy her, ladies and gentlemen.”

The man stepped aside and applauded along with the rest of the crowd as the two men beside the steel box unlocked several fingerprint locks, unfastened chains, and then at last peeled away the hard outer casing of the box to reveal a glass case, and a sparkling stone within. Elliot’s practiced eyes appraised it in an instant, and even from this distance its clarity and color made his breath catch. The diamond’s purple was watery as silk and as pale as violets caught in afternoon sunlight. Glints of light flickered off of it as people’s applause faded in favor of the snap of cameras’ shutters and the brilliance of their flashes. Elliot’s shoulders softened and he took a deep, steady breath as he considered the diamond. _That’ll sell for half a billion euros to the right distributors._

“That is certainly going to make one hell of a wedding ring,” Oz said with a nod.

Elliot shoved Oz’s shoulder hard enough to send him careening off his chair and sprawling for balance. He continued to consider the diamond, eyes flicking about to the posted guards visible as those clothed in security attire as well as those guests who stood out from the rest in a certain business-like, military way. “Shut up,” he quipped.

A little knock on the bar behind him caught Elliot’s attention and distracted him briefly from a thorough analysis of the diamond’s security detail.

“Certainly is beautiful, isn’t it?” someone asked from the other side of the bar.

“It is,” Elliot agreed. A prod at his elbow made him turn and he caught sight of a Collins glass sitting on the bar, nudging against him. It was filled with a mixture of clear liquid, green leaves, and purple flowers. “Oh...” he remarked.

“That’s a gin and tonic with juniper, elderflower, and thyme,” the bartender said, voice bubbling and friendly.

Beside Elliot Oz glanced down at the drink and began to smile. “Wait a second...” He followed the bartender’s arm up until he was looking him in the eyes. He let out a snort and clapped his hands for joy. “Oh Nightgay. You are _fucked_.”

Elliot froze. “What...?” He turned slowly, terror making his movements leaden, and looked at the bartender. He was a tall, visibly muscular man with mild brown hair and a pair of hazel eyes winking behind gold-rimmed spectacles. His face had something of a hard look beneath its veneer of friendly charm, like those the disguised guards about the room possessed. “Do I...know you...?” he hesitated.

The bartender gave him a little smile. “I should think so seeing as you sent someone to kill me a few hours ago.”

_Accent._ Recollection and realization slammed down onto Elliot and all at once dozens of grainy security camera pictures and hotel lobby video recordings from across Europe jolted up to startle memory from him. The bartender’s square jaw, somewhat delicate eyes, and narrow nose became recognizable in a flash and Elliot stiffened. “You’re-“ He squeaked.

The bartender smiled a little smugly. “Liam Lunettes.” He leaned forward towards Elliot, eyes sparkling. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Oz barked a laugh and pushed himself up off the bar as he made to leave. “Oh, good luck with this one. I’ll be in the-“

The bartender’s arm snapped out and cinched like a vice around Oz’s wrist. “You will be right here. I’ve got bigger problems to deal with tonight than a very bad bunny loose in Buenos Aires.” His eyes hardened and narrowed slightly as he glared at Oz, then eased into calm calculation as he turned back to Elliot. “You know who I am?” he said quietly.

“Yes...” Elliot whispered hoarsely.

Liam smiled curtly. “Very good. And do you know what I _do_ , Mr. Nightray?” he asked.

Elliot nodded mutely. He could hear his heartbeat rushing and blood racing through every pulsing vein in his body. A high-pitched whine started up behind his ears as his jaw clenched tight. _Leo. Leo’s still not here. All I have on me is a handgun, and he could disarm me before I even got it out of my pocket._ He bit his lip. _Play it cool. He’s just as restricted by this setting as I am._ “You’re supposed to have a partner, aren’t you?” he asked.

“So are you,” Liam said pointedly.

A flare of nervousness and anger swept over Elliot. “Did you kill him?” he whispered sharply. He steeled himself for the answer even as he asked, already gathering himself against the possibility of crushing heartbreak.

“No, I didn’t.” Liam said with a shake of his head. “I’m here now to-“

“I don’t believe you!” Elliot hissed. “It’s a 13 minute drive from my hotel to the restaurant where he was headed. And I got a call from him over an hour ago telling me you and your partner had escaped! What did you do with him?!”

Liam’s eyes had darted away and were scanning the crowd. He exhaled a laugh. “You and your bomb-happy mistress are hardly a concern right now,” he said. “The reason I’m here is-“

Oz snickered. “Mistress...” he echoed.

Elliot drew himself up and whipped around to face the still-laughing Oz. “He’s not my-!”

Half a second of quick movement later and they both froze on the spot.

Liam’s right hand had dropped to his hip. He stood leaning on his left elbow now, with the carbon-grey barrel of a gun protruding up towards Oz and Elliot both. His eyes had grown dark and lethal, and though from a distance he might still appear friendly and at ease up close the muscular, irritated tension in every muscle in his body betrayed formidable strength and anger. “Interrupt me one more time and I’ll shoot both of you,” he growled. Both Elliot and Oz remained rooted, eyes wide and nervous as they watched him. “That’s more like it...Now listen up. Walk away from the bar. The nearest door to the right of where we’re standing leads out onto the terrace near the gardens. Take it. When you’re outside, stay there and wait for me. I’ll be two minutes behind you at most.”

Elliot’s skin flashed hot with alarm as Oz bristled and fired back a response. “Why should we trust you?” he asked.

Liam cocked back the hammer on his gun and glanced down at it. “Because I’m the one with the gun,” he replied lowly.

Oz flared. “What the fuck are you doing?” he barked.

“Getting you out of here before you’re hurt,” Liam retorted just as sharply.

Oz shook his head firmly. “I’m not going anywhere without Raven,” he argued.

“Already taken care of. Raven and Break are well away from here by now.” He glanced at Elliot. “Responding to a call from Leo.”

Elliot’s stomach turned. “What...kind of call?” he breathed.

“Distress. He’s been attacked.” Liam glanced suspiciously at a nearby group of people.

A moment of cold washed over Elliot. “Charlotte...” he breathed in horror.

“Yes, that’s right,” Liam said gravely. “And I’m here to keep the same from happening to you. That’s why you’re going to walk away from the bar, take the door out onto the balcony, and wait for me outside. No more arguing.”

Elliot glanced back at the diamond glittering in its case. It captivated him once more, but any desire to stay for its sake was fleeting. As he watched Charlotte appeared among the thronging crowd, aglitter in her black gown and dripping ruby finery. She offered a flirty smile and an inaudible laugh to the security guard standing at one corner of the case and approached it. The corner of the glass distorted her face out of its normally abundant beauty and soured her smile into a grimace.

“Liam...” Elliot breathed. He nodded towards the glass case as Charlotte bent behind it.

Liam’s hand tightened around his gun. “Who’s that?” he asked quietly.

Elliot’s brow furrowed. “That’s Charlotte Villars...I thought you knew...” he asked in confusion.

“No, not her. The man behind her,” Liam asked.

Elliot’s eyes shifted to the looming figure standing behind Charlotte. Even from this distance Elliot could almost smell the reek of flowers around him. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said.

As Elliot and Liam watched the man’s hands began to move. He lifted his left and smudged away the greasy makeup on his cheek, baring gashes of black ink in the shape of a clawed hand below his eye.

Elliot’s eyes widened and the entire room spiraled down into nonexistence around a single point as the man unbuttoned his coat and reached up into its folds.

“Is that a...?” Oz’s voice trailed away.

“Get down,” Liam ordered.

A rifle slid out of its hidden place beneath the man’s coat and into his hands in a single fluid gesture.

“Get down!” Liam yelled, loud enough for the whole room to hear him this time. He leaped over the bar, one leg sweeping out to kick Elliot in the shoulder to knock him into Oz and send them both sprawling to the ground. He glanced upwards and fired his pistol into the air, directly towards a large wooden eave where the bullet would catch instead of bouncing.

Everyone nearby flinched and a few sharp screams went up as the sound of the shot burst across the collective hearing of all in the museum.

The tattooed man gave a voracious roar and began to charge towards Liam. Two of the security guards whirled on him, guns raised, but they hardly gave him pause. He turned his rifle around and gripped the barrel, then swung it like a club to knock the two men aside. One man’s neck snapped unnaturally and Charlotte let out a scream as his body careened towards her, shattering the diamond’s glass case and sending her to the floor beneath the pedestal it had been sitting on.

“Liam!” Oz shouted as the man dropped into a strange, almost animal position and ran full tilt towards Liam.

Liam’s foot slammed back and connected with Oz’s chest. “What the _fuck_ are you still doing here?! Get up! Get out! Go!”

Three more men in security uniforms leaped onto the assailant and Elliot’s stomach twisted in horror as three gunshots followed. Two of the men fell instantly and one toppled to the floor, holding his knee and screaming.

_“GO!”_ Liam roared to the stunned Oz and Elliot as he looked over his shoulder at them. He lowered his pistol and fired a shot into the ground a few feet away.

The bang was enough to startle Elliot out of the daze that had overcome him and he found his legs moving without his brain’s consent or direction. He was barely conscious of Oz beside him, or of the direction they took through the thronging crowd towards the exit.

            He cried out as another gunshot sent splinters of stone and plaster raining down in front of he and Oz. A screen of thick smoke followed as a canister hidden in the bullet exploded and released a noxious yellow substance into the air.

            Oz threw himself to the side and knocked Elliot to the floor as the gas expanded towards them. “Don’t let it touch you!” he said urgently.

            Elliot didn’t even have time to blink before several people who’d been running ahead of them charged straight into the gas and fell screaming and writhing, to the floor, their hands and faces burning red.

            “Mustard gas...?” Elliot asked in horrified disbelief.

            Further screams from behind them made Elliot turn on instinct. Several more capsules of the gas had exploded all over the room and at least a dozen people had fallen victim to the burning, torturous fate it wrought in its wake.

            Elliot froze as he caught sight of Liam lying on his side, but found himself able to breathe again as Liam rolled onto his stomach, crawled behind an upturned cocktail table, and began to fire at the attacker. Several other gunshots from security people hidden on the balcony above joined his. The first glancing blow to the man’s shoulder sent him sprawling to the ground and his gun sliding from his hand and across the floor. Liam visibly set his jaw and shoved the table he was using as a shield away. He combat rolled forwards to land on one knee, his pistol raised and braced. The man gave an infuriated cry as he fell and by the time he hit the ground had already drawn a second gun, which he discharged wildly several times in the upwards direction of the security guards. Two cries accompanied the rain of bullets, and one body fell heavily from the balcony to the floor below.

Liam fired a single shot, which passed straight through the man’s forearm. He screamed and released his gun, then turned with burning eyes to Liam. He yanked out another weapon, a throwing knife this time, and whipped it at Liam.

            Liam fired a single shot just as the man released the knife. Half a second later his bullet thunked home in the left-hand side of the man’s chest, leaving a tiny bubble of blood in its wake. Unlike the last glancing blow it carried him nowhere but straight backwards. He fell back on his heels, gasping and coughing. He looked down at his chest and raised a hand to touch the trickling blood leaking from the clean hole in it.

            When he looked back up at Liam his face – already bloodless as it was – was full of fiery wrath. He drew in as deep a breath as he could and let out another roar, this one full of spittle and blood. His stained hand fumbled in his coat and he pulled out another weapon, a heavy handgun with a wide, mean-looking barrel.

            All the combat readiness went out of Liam in favor of flight. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled away as fast as he could. He spotted Oz and Elliot and shook his head as he changed his path to veer towards them. “Three seconds to get out or I’ll shoot you my fucking self!” he roared at them.

            Elliot watched in horror as the tattooed man tracked Liam’s movements with his gun and aimed straight at him. “Liam!” he called.

            Liam turned over his shoulder, his arm swinging up and through the gas above so his gun was aimed straight at the tattooed man. The sound of two gunshots at once was deafening in the foyer that was still echoing with moans and screams from the injured guests.

            Liam yelled incoherently and dropped backwards as the tattooed man’s bullet hit him in the side, traveling fast enough to pierce right through him and slam into the wall behind. Another discharge of gas followed as Liam slumped to the floor, his vest already soaked with blood.

            “Elliot, help me!” Oz said as he hauled Liam forward a few inches, still working on his hands and knees to stay below the lethal gas. “We have two seconds before that gas hits us. Come on!”

            Elliot’s reflexes took over again and he reached out to grab Liam. He dragged one of Liam’s arms around his neck and scrambled alongside Oz away from the center of the room. The patio door loomed across an endless expanse of parquet floor before them and it seemed an eternity before the fresh air and the still sounds of night rose up around them. Oz and Elliot burst forth onto the balcony coughing and shaking, Liam still slumped between them.

            “Did Liam get him?” Oz asked.

            Elliot turned over his shoulder and swallowed a lump of disgust. The tattooed man sat slumped in the middle of the room, the hole in his chest leaking blood and one straight through his eye dripping oozing fluid and brain matter. The gas swirled thick and fuming around him but he remained unchanged, skin unmarred by blisters and remaining eye still whole despite its lifelessness. The strangeness of it was enough to send shivers up Elliot’s spine. “He’s dead.” He shook his head in confusion as he and Oz reached the edge of the balcony, beyond the toxic influence of the dissipated gas, and came to a stop. “Oz, look at that.” He lifted a hand and pointed to the body in the center of the foyer.

Oz sat in silence for a moment, analyzing. A wave of realization hit him and he gasped softly. “No...No, that’s not possible. He should be covered in blisters.”

            Liam groaned and finally stirred on the ground between them. Elliot and Oz both leaped back and away as Liam’s eyes popped open. “Here’s your fucking blisters,” he said with a grimace. He lifted his right arm to display the network of growing rash and burn marring the part of his body that had touched the gas.

            Elliot blinked at Liam in sudden comprehension, his eyes flickering from the wounds on his arm to his side. “You got shot,” he said plainly.

            Liam grunted a bitter laugh. “Yes, Elliot. I got fucking shot.” He took a deep breath and hauled himself to his feet, growling at the pain and pressing his unburned hand to his side.

            The uncomprehending haze of shock had well and truly settled over Elliot now, making him deaf to his own brazen stupidity. “And you just stood up?” he asked.

            “Yes, and I just stood up. And you’d better do the same right this fucking second.” Elliot obeyed, followed by a similarly shaking Oz.

            “Liam, your arm...We’ve got to get you to water...” Oz said numbly.

            Liam turned on his heel and set off across the balcony towards the stairs to the gardens, staggering a bit and leaning heavily on the railing. “We’ll have time for that...once we’re somewhere safe...” he said through his teeth. He turned and gave Oz and Elliot a blazing glare. “The two of you had better start moving or I’m going to leave you, promise or not.”

            “Right.” Elliot hauled himself to his feet and tripped off after Liam, his ears ringing and his hands trembling violently. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Oz still kneeling on the balcony, staring uncomprehendingly at the body inside.

            “Hey!” he called.

            Oz shook his head. His hand lifted and began to fiddle with the top button on his suit and his head tipped to the right. “How...?”

            “Oz!” Liam snapped.

            Oz stood and walked obediently towards Liam and Elliot, though his eyes remained locked on the undamaged body in the cloud of thinning mustard gas for as long as they could. “It just...shouldn’t be possible,” he murmured to himself. “It _shouldn’t_.” He looked up at Liam. “Right?”

            Liam shook his head but offered no other reply. He stumbled and Elliot reached out to catch him. He looked down at himself and caught sight of the massive smear of blood marring his once pristine white tuxedo, oozing from Liam’s side to coat his own. _It’ll look so pretty with your blue eyes..._ Elliot swallowed and forced himself to take a deep breath. “What the hell is all this?” he asked in confusion.

            “I’m not sure I want to know,” Oz said quietly, his fingers still locked around the button of his suit and his face lost in deep thought.

            A large fountain rose up alongside them as they made their way towards the parking lot. A brass globe sat in its center, turning slowly as water trickled around it. Monstrous sea creatures oozed around it, spewing water into the fountain’s basin. The fountain’s stone edge was inscribed with a few large words in lLatin. “HIC SUNT DRACONES”.

            Elliot swallowed as he read it, and a thrill of foreboding cold passed up his spine.

            _Here there be dragons._

 


	5. Chapter Five

            “-meet them. There’s a house near the harbor.”

            A distinctive tapping sound. Like draining water.

            _Harbor...There’s not a single harbor in all of Serbia..._

            “And you’re sure it’s secure? That no one’s going to find us there?”

            Gravity skewed to the right and the world kaleidoscoped out of proper existence. A gasped breath. Sudden pain. And still water dripping from somewhere. _“You sit here until you can take the shot. You don’t come down out of that nest until your target has a bullet through his skull. The snowmelt should be enough to drink.”_

            “Yes, I’m sure. It’s beyond fortified...They’ll beat us there, but only by a little bit, if we hurry.”

            _It’s not water...It’s metal on stone, like picking up shell casings off the ground..._ Gravity skewed again. Something soft and damp was brushed away from his face. _“Can’t shoot with hair like that in your eyes.”_ The sensation of fingers on his cheek set his jaw clenching hard. His expression flickered. _“Touch my face again and you’ll find out exactly how well I can shoot.”_

            “Raven, I think he’s waking up...”

            Leo’s eyes opened, instantly roving around to find something to focus on. The blur and uncertainty of a world without his glasses settled over him with the dull familiarity of an unwelcome relative. Pain came next, sharp stings and throbbing aches all over his body. _Assess, like you were trained to do. Where are you? What’s happening?_ He swallowed a grunt of pain as he shifted his position a little. _Hurt. Really hurt. Cold, too._

            “Leo?!”

            _And not alone._ The tilting spiral of blurry buildings and indistinct light screeched to a halt. _I know that sound...It’s my name. And the person calling it..._

            “Leo, can you hear me? Leo?”

_Russian accent. But not speaking Russian._ He blinked hard to clear some oscillating gold illumination from his vision. A figure ringed in a halo of feathery black became clear, silhouetted against the shifting grey of a nighttime sky drenched in smog and old light. _“Is it true that even total darkness is as bright as day to you?”_

_That voice..._ Leo lifted a hand blearily. He groped at the pale shape before him, tracing his way up until he reached the telltale jut of a jaw. His fingers continued to wander, grazing over stubble and inwards to a mouth marked distinct by a tapering scar near the right-hand corner of the upper lip. His fingertips meandered up a sculpted cheek and inwards to a sturdy nose. The gentle slope of a forehead above it gave way to a length of eyebrow cresting the shallow hollow of an eye socket. Leo’s fingers drifted downwards, finding the slightly sloped outer corner of an eye and following the curvature of an eyelid back inwards. He let out a flutter of a breath. “ворон...”

Raven nodded and sighed in relief as Leo spoke his name. “Yes, Leo, it’s me.”

Leo’s head cleared further, and with another degree of consciousness came another urgent thought. “Elliot...” Leo croaked at once. “Where’s Elliot?”

“Safe. I promise he’s safe. When we realized ” Raven’s hands fell on Leo’s shoulders, running lightly over his arms searching for deep injury. “How’s your head? Are you numb anywhere?”

Leo squinted. “I can’t really...tell yet...” As he attempted to focus on Raven a swell of familiar, panging pain ran through Leo’s ocular nerves, jetting fire back through his entire skull. He slammed his eyes shut. “My...glasses,” he panted.

“O-Oh shit, of course...Break? Break, give them here...”

Foreboding stirred in Leo and his eyes reopened. “Break?” _If that’s a name..._ Leo flinched away in fuzzy confusion as a splotch of day-bright white sparkled across his vision. It shifted towards him, and after a moment proffered focus and clarity in the form of his glasses. He blinked and squinted to help his eyes adjust. As they did the halogen burn of indistinct whiteness above coalesced into a trim-faced man with slightly downturned eyes and lean, graceful shoulders. The whiteness of his hair and skin and the distinctly trim cut to his chiseled grey Italian-style suit registered at once as familiar and Leo’s breath caught. _Xerxes Break. The agent from the restaurant._ He stiffened against the wall where he was leaning. “Shit...”

Break smiled and tipped his head. He swung his tall black cane – whose metal tip, Leo realized, was the source of the persistent clicking noise – up onto his shoulder and gave Leo a smile. “Miss L’Vitsa, so good to see you again!” He clicked his tongue. “Our date started off with such a bang. I’m hurt you’d abandon me like you did.”

Leo gritted his teeth as he sat up more fully. He glared up at Break. “Fuck you,” he growled.

“Leo, you have to sit back,” Raven said gently. His hands rose towards Leo’s shoulders to steady them. “You’re not ready to move yet.”

Leo ignored him, his eyes locked on Break. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s okay,” Raven soothed as best he could. He ran a hand over Leo’s hair to try and calm him. “Break’s a friend.”

“A _friend?!_ ” Leo exclaimed in outrage. “He and that damn Scotsman with the glasses came here to-“

Break burst out laughing, clapping his hands. “ _Scotsman!_ Call him that to his face, I _dare_ you.” He clicked his tongue and looked down at Leo, his face growing more serious and imperceptible. “And to be honest Hunter’s a side job. A coincidence.” He blinked slowly at Leo, his eyes large and eerie as a cat’s in the half light. “My partner and I are really here hunting Baskervilles.”

Leo’s skin crawled and a years-old voice rose in his head. “ _Never look in a man’s eyes before you kill him, Lev. That’s the way to get yourself possessed.”_ His jaw tensed a little. “Well you’re about 45 minutes late,” he replied tersely.

Break turned his head to look down the empty alleyway. “If you mean Lily she’ll be back. Hounds are like lions, they rarely desert their prey.” His attention flicked back to Raven and Leo. “So we should get moving.”

Raven nodded. “Leo, I’m going to carry you, okay?” he asked softly.

Leo shook his head and forced himself up into a better sitting position. “I’m fine to walk on my own.” A few of his joints and muscles smarted as he sat but he forced himself up. He sighed in disappointment as he looked down at his torn and muddy dress. “Dammit.”

“If it’s any consolation I think it looks better with all the holes in it,” Break said, giving Leo a pointed look up and down.

Leo narrowed his eyes at him. “What the hell’s your deal?” _I’m not used to people I can’t read..._

As if he could see the thought in Leo’s eyes Break smirked and gave him a wink. “The world may never know,” he said.

Raven pulled himself to his feet beside Leo. “You’ll get used to him, trust me,” he grumbles. He looks around the alleyway. “We hid your bike. You’re not in any shape to ride, and we have to stick together.”

“I’m more concerned about my rifle...Did you find it?” Leo asked anxiously.

Raven turned and lifted the gun from where it was leaning against the wall. He handed it off to Leo with an apologetic wince. “Sort of...”

The gun’s barrel had several holes torn in it, piercing points of darkness where the metal had been rent apart. Its butt was scratched and gouged, too, and the lens of the sniping scope shattered. “Fuck,” Leo hissed. He lifted the gun and let out another frustrated sound as he looked down the barrel and the true extent of the damage became apparent.

Break reached beneath his jacket and removed a handgun from its holster. He offered it to Leo. “Here.”

Leo scoffed as he took the weapon and examined it. “Jeez, no wonder you can’t shoot for shit.” He lifted the gun and aimed it upwards. He smirked as Break blustered an indignant sound and Raven held in a laugh. Leo checked the gun’s safety and slid aside one side of his dress to expose a holster on his thigh. He tucked the weapon away.

Levity fled from the three of them as they set off, Break taking up the lead with his cane tapping beside him and Raven and Leo falling into watchful step behind him. The air grew silent and empty and night loomed vast around them, full at every step with danger.

“How did you know where to find me?” Leo asked quietly as they turned down another alley.

“We didn’t,” Break replied. An odd rustle to his right made him jolt. He spun, his cane instantly transformed into a sword, and adopted a graceful fighting stance with his shoulders set and so easy a grip on his blade it seemed to hang in his hand.

A jolt went through Leo, though his expression remained perfectly unaffected. _That grip..._

A rat scuttled out from beneath a deserted car and Break relaxed again, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know MI-6 agents trained in sword-fighting...” Leo remarked.

Break turned to look at him. For a moment before his expression shifted into a smile Leo caught a glimpse of something eerily empty as Break’s eyes were rendered in black and his cheeks in starker white by the cut of a streetlamp’s glow across his face. The moment passed as he shook his head. “I’m a special case,” he remarked with a little lilt before turning and heading off again.

Leo’s eyes narrowed in uncertain distrust. He waited until Break was a few steps away then dropped his voice to a murmur and addressed Raven. “Are you sure he’s a friend?”

“As sure as I can be...” Raven replied.

The nervousness in his friend’s voice registered to Leo and he glanced up at him. “Then why do yo-“

“Friend or not he saved my life,” Raven cut in sharply.

The abnormal harshness in Raven’s voice made Leo pause. He looked up uncertainly at him.

Raven let out a tense breath. “I’m sorry, Leo.” He put an arm around Leo’s shoulders and squeezed them briefly. “I’m just...I was just...” He sighed. “It’s been a long day.” He nodded definitively. “But it’ll be better once we get to the house.”

Leo reached up and patted one of Raven’s cheeks. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured.

Raven took a deep inhale and smiled at Leo. “It’s been kind of a shit show so far...but I really am glad to see you again.”

“You too, ворон,” Leo said softly. “Are we far from the house?” he asked, his voice tired.

“Not too far,” Raven assured him.

“And you’re _sure_ Elliot’s safe there?” Leo asked.

Break turned over his shoulder. “Oh don’t worry, my Scotsman’s keeping track of him,” he said with a giggle.

“He won’t harm him,” Raven added quickly. “Liam’s one of the best men I know.”

Doubt flickered visibly on Leo’s face but he nodded and stayed quiet, eased by the familiar press of gunmetal against his thigh.

Their next turn down a slightly larger street brought the smell of the ocean with it and the one after sounds of clatter and machinery from the nearby industrial port.

“This doesn’t exactly seem like the safest place for a safe house,” Leo remarked as the sound of a gunshot ricocheted through the air nearby.

“This is one of Jackrabbit’s primary bases of operation,” Raven nodded at a faded etching on one of the buildings. It bore the familiar shape of a cartoonish rabbit with pointed ears and a wide smile. “This whole city’s safe as long as you’re with Oz or me.”

They turned down the alleyway and walked until they reached a low-to-the-ground building in dingy brick and cracking mortar. Raven stepped up and knocked on the shabby wooden front door. Ten seconds of silence followed, then a panel of wood near the top of the door slid away, revealing a high-tech array of sensors and screens. Raven typed in a short password, set his palm on one of the sensors, and leaned in to murmur an inaudible password into a small microphone. The door gave a bing and the wood panel slid back into place. Metallic sounds from within were followed by the door swinging creakingly ajar and a computerized voice pinging out a short message of welcome or warning in Spanish. Raven grasped the handle and pulled the door open further, revealing that the modest wooden exterior was nothing but a shell. The door behind was comprised of at least six inches of solid steel, and the hallway beyond was similarly armored.

Break looked around as he walked up the stairs and through the door into the safe house. “Well Oz is certainly nothing if not paranoid.”

Raven gave him a look. “We had some security problems with one of our bases in Haiti, so we had to upgrade everything.”

Break snickered.

Leo stepped up next, slipping beneath Raven’s arm and into the safe house. He breathed out a sigh of relief as the door sealed shut behind them and locked itself. The familiar smell of metal surrounded him and the cool floor provided welcome relief to his aching feet.

The long solid steel hallway led to a set of sturdy, industrial stairs that terminated in another locked door. Raven cut past Leo and Break and repeated the process of opening the door with a variety of passcodes and scans. When he was through a section of the door lit up blue and awoke into a screen on which a series of complex numbers winked into life.

Leo wrinkled his brow. “An equation?” he asked in confusion.

Raven briefly considered the dizzying math problem and then wrote in a number on the screen with a finger. The door gave a few beeps and settled to opening what was clearly a wide array of locks. Raven turned to Leo. “It’s a last measure of protection for the safe house. If someone were to kill Oz or me and manage to get this far they’d still have to solve a problem like that in under a minute to get inside. There are a few pre-programmed equations but the computer in the door randomly generates the numbers so it’s never the same problem twice.”

Break shook his head in amazement. “Were there even any _numbers_ in that equation?”

Raven laughed. “Not really. When you get deep enough into calculus just about everything is letters.” The door finished its unlocking routine and gave another beep. It swung open and Raven led the way into the room beyond.

It was a startlingly normal-looking living room with soft couches and chairs set before a gas fireplace. The walls were painted a simple red to complement the rich embroidery on the sofas and incandescent bulbs shining from the ceiling cast a warm pall over the space. An open doorway revealed the presence of a fully-furnished kitchen beyond and a second staircase hinted at the presence of more rooms beyond.

Elliot and Oz sat on one of the couches, Elliot drinking a glass of water and staring into the fire and Oz writing furiously in a notebook. When the door opened Elliot gave a jolt and whipped to face it. The turn assured that the second Leo walked through the door their eyes met. Elliot’s face melted in relief and he stood to greet him. When Leo came more fully into view, however, the expression turned to one of worry and fear.

Leo pushed past Raven and ran across the room, halting just shy of pulling Elliot into a hug. “Are you hurt?” he asked urgently.

“You are!” Elliot protested. He put his hands on Leo’s shoulders and pushed him down into a chair. He knelt before him and turned over his shoulder. “Oz!” he said urgently.

Oz’s focus broke as he was directly addressed and he looked up. He caught sight of Leo first and gasped in shock. Almost at once, though, his eyes were drawn to Raven where he stood near the door bolting and twisting several manual locks. “You’re back...” He stood and walked across the room towards Raven. As he neared unease settled on him and he looked down at Raven’s hand on one of the locks. The normally strong, steady fingers were trembling slightly. Oz pursed his lips and lifted his eyes to study Raven’s face. “It’s a safe house, Raven,” he murmured. He reached out and set his hand on Raven’s upper back. “Safe,” he repeated quietly.

Raven gave a shaky nod and finally stepped away from the door. Regardless of the company in the room he pulled Oz against his chest at once and began running one hand through his hair. “We don’t have to leave again tonight, do we?” he asked weakly.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Oz assured Raven as he squeezed and held him back firmly.

Break stepped away from the intimate moment and crossed the room to kneel on Leo’s other side.

He looked him up and down, comprehensively taking stock of his injuries. “Some of these need to be dressed...”

“The medical kit’s upstairs. We...We had to use it for Liam.” Elliot swallowed nervously as he looked over at Break. “It’s not...not fatal or anything...but he was shot...” he said, almost apologetic.

Break took a deep breath and closed his eyes, composing himself for a moment. _You have to manage this situation,_ he told himself. _Take charge so no one else has to._ “Okay.” He looked over at Elliot. Barely a moment’s analysis revealed deep unease etched into his eyes and the tenseness in his jaw. “Have you all eaten?” Elliot shook his head and Break looked around again. “Liam and Leo will both need to eat to get their strength back. Help me get Leo upstairs to the bathroom and into the shower. That’ll be the quickest way to clean all his wounds at once. Once we’ve done that we’ll see to Liam and come back downstairs to make something to eat. When Leo gets out of the shower we’ll dress his wounds and make sure we find him a place to rest. Alright? Can you help me with that?”

            The concrete nature of the plan instantly banished at least a bit of the anxiety on Elliot’s face. “I can help, yes,” he said.

            Break nodded firmly. He rose and set his cane down on the table. “Start helping him up, okay? His right ankle is a little swollen, so walk on that side to support him.”

            Elliot stood readily and bent to help Leo to his feet. Now that he’d had the chance to relax the pressure of his wounds was clearly overwhelming and he sagged heavily as he and Elliot made their way towards the stairs.

            After sending them on their way Break looked back over at Oz and Raven, who were still embracing. “Raven? You might be more comfortable if you were sitting...right?”

            Raven looked up almost like he’d just been awoken, his face betraying an absolute wreck of emotion. Tears flooded his eyes as he looked over at Break and nodded weakly.

            Oz and Break’s eyes connected and Oz pulled away, retaining a tight hold on Raven’s hand but leading him towards the sofa. When they arrived he sat at one end and pulled Raven down beside him. He ran a hand through his hair to muss it a little and then reached out to pull Raven closer. “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

            Raven sank against him, resting his head on Oz’s shoulder. Trembling took over and he shuddered a breath that was almost a sob.

            “Can you get that blanket?” Oz asked Break, nodding to a decorative throw blanket on the armchair nearest the fire.

            Break fetched and shook it out. Reading Oz’s intent he draped the blanket around Raven’s head and shoulders, covering as much of him as he could.

            “Thank you,” Oz said. He nodded to his pad of paper. “And that?”

            Break picked up the sheet and curiously examined its contents. It was covered in Oz’s tight, neat handwriting and several diagrams of what appeared to be molecular structures. At the bottom of the page was a drawing of a human form with annotations and labels on several of its pieces. Break raised his eyebrows, impressed. “I didn’t know you could draw,” he remarked as he handed off the pad. He watched for a silent moment as Oz set the paper in his lap and began to draw again. “Those look like medical notes...”

            “They are,” Oz said, looking worriedly back down at the paper. He was silent for a long minute. “In all the searching you’ve done for the Baskervilles have you...I know it sounds crazy but have you come across any information about body modifications? Super-human strength, enhanced senses, resilience to physical damage, that kind of thing?”

            Break glanced down at the paper in Oz’s hand. “Is that what those notes are on?” he asked quietly.

            “I...” Oz sighed. “Maybe. But it’s...I’m not sure. It doesn’t make _any_ sense.”

            Break nodded. “Keep thinking about it. I have to take care of Leo and check on Liam. Do you know where he was shot?”

            “The side. No major arteries were hit and no organs damaged. The bullet went through and didn’t leave any residue. I cleaned and stitched the wound and gave him a light anesthetic. He should still be sleeping upstairs,” Oz replied without looking up from his notes.

            Break looked off up the stairs. “Good choice. He’d already be on his feet if it weren’t for that.” He stepped away and followed Leo and Elliot up the stairs. He caught up to them on the second floor and wrapped Leo’s arm around his shoulders to support his other side. The three of them made their way into a modestly sized but comfortable-looking bedroom and through it into a bathroom all in white stone with a large shower behind a secondary door. Break walked into the shower room and turned on the water then returned to Leo. “I’ll find you some other clothes and leave them outside, alright?” He looked at Elliot. “I’m going to go find Liam and check on him. Meet me in the kitchen? And keep quiet, okay? Raven’s resting.”

            Elliot nodded an affirmation and Break closed the bathroom door and made his way back into the hall. A half-open bedroom door caught his attention and he entered it. A soft light emanating from a green-shaded lamp on the bedside table illuminated a shirtless Liam, who was tucked into bed and sleeping soundly on his back. Break walked as quietly as he could across the room and pulled back the covers to examine Oz’s work on Liam’s wounds.

            As the blankets shifted Liam’s eyes opened. He blinked, his vision blurry without his glasses, then smiled. “Bonnie...?” he asked blearily.

            Break leaned in and kissed him gently. “Why are you always getting shot?” he chided.

            “Every now and then I have to be the one making a scene, right?” Liam croaked.

            The dryness in Liam’s voice caught Break’s attention and he frowned. “Are you thirsty?” he asked.

            “Yes...There’s water on the bedside table,” Liam said.

            Break turned and reached for the glass. He slipped one hand beneath Liam’s neck and lifted his head to help him drink. Though Liam’s hand clenched in slight discomfort as he swallowed he drank almost half the glass before relaxing away again. “Thank you...” His eyes fell closed again and he let out a soft sound. “Is Raven alright?”

            “Yes. Oz is taking care of him,” Break affirmed. He bent and kissed Liam’s cheek. “Get some rest, babe. Can I bring you some dinner in a bit?”

            Liam nodded. “Please do.”

            Break caught sight of a thick bandage on Liam’s left arm as he moved the blankets to cover him again. “Oh don’t tell me you got shot _twice_ ,” he said, worry mixing with the teasing in his voice.

            “No,” Liam’s eyes opened again and he looked down at the wound. “Burned. Mustard gas, of all things...”

            “Jesus...” Break said with a sympathetic wince of pain.

            “It hurts like hell but I’ll be fine within a few days,” Liam assured him. “I didn’t breathe it or get it in my eyes, just on that one patch of skin.”

            “Still...” Break shook his head. “No more splitting up. At least one of us always gets fucked when we split up.”

            Liam reached up with his good hand and tucked Break’s hair behind his ear then cupped his cheek in his palm. “Aww, are you worried about me?” he joked hoarsely.

            “I love you. Of course I’m worried about you,” Break replied more seriously.

            The sincerity made Liam smile. “I love you too,” he returned.

            Break took Liam’s fingers and kissed them. “You need to rest more. I’ll bring you some food when it’s done. If you need _anything_ just call, okay? I’m right downstairs.”

            Liam nodded tiredly, his eyes already closing. “Don’t...Don’t let Raven be alone,” he managed.

            “I won’t,” Break replied with a nod. He leaned in and kissed Liam’s forehead then released his hand and pulled up the blankets around him. “Goodnight, Liam.”

            Liam mumbled a farewell as Break stood and crossed to the door. Elliot was waiting in he hall, shifting a little nervously on his feet. He peered into the room. “Is he okay?” he fretted.

            “He is. Just tired from the drugs Oz gave him,” Break said. He glanced back into the room and then nodded down the hall. Elliot nodded and the two of them made their silent way past both of the bedrooms to the end of the hall furthest from the stairs.

            “I need you to tell me something,” Break murmured. “It’s very important that you don’t lie to me. Your life and Leo’s could very much be forfeit if you do.”

            Elliot swallowed but nodded.

            “Are Lily and Charlotte Villars’ interests in you and Leo purely motivated by your rivalry in the black market?”

            The firmness and quiet urgency of the statement drew seriousness from Elliot. He stood up a little straighter, shedding bits of anxiety like a second skin and emerging from beneath them sharp and crisp and glowing with confident intelligence. “No,” he said. “At least I don’t think so. As Scarlet Charlotte has many enemies but she doesn’t pursue any of them with the voracity she’s dedicated to Leo and I.”

            “And how long has that been going on?”

            Elliot hummed. “Four years. Yeah, almost four years exactly,” he said with a nod.

            “Do you have _any_ idea what might have sparked it on?” Break hesitated a moment, cautious. “Anything to do with Leo?”

            “With Leo?” Elliot’s voice flared slightly into something like protectiveness. “What do you think Leo has to do with this?”

            “Nothing,” Break said with a shake of his head. “I’m just...just guessing. Leo’s your bodyguard, right? I’m sure he’s killed for you. I know Raven’s killed for Oz. Maybe he killed the wrong person? Were your interests entangled in anything then?”

            “Not really. Nothing of professional note happened around that time. And I’m not as flagrant with my _unofficial_ business as Oz is. Leo’s never killed anyone for showmanship or just to make a point,” Elliot said firmly.

            Break sighed in frustration. “Something of personal note, then? _Anything_ you can think of that set that year apart. Please, Elliot,” he said.

            Elliot tipped his head. “You’re awfully eager...” he murmured.

            “My partner’s been shot and burned with what he and Oz both seem to believe is _mustard gas._ These clearly aren’t sane people we’re up against. And if they have a special hatred for you or Leo I want to know why,” Break insisted.

            Elliot studied him for a long moment, uncertain, his eyes deep as echoing pools as he studied Break. A beat of silence passed before he spoke up again, his voice a bit more shielded this time. “The only thing of personal note that happened that year was that I took over a large percentage of my family’s orphanages. The title of lord and its associated properties and privileges will pass to Fred, my oldest brother, but I plead with my father to let me handle the philanthropic side of our family business. It’s something I’m really passionate about, so the year I turned sixteen he agreed to let me manage them along with a board of directors to provide more solid business advice while I was still learning.”

            Break nodded slowly. “I’m sorry if this question seems intrusive but it’s important...Did Leo come from one of those orphanages?”

            Elliot shifted a bit uncomfortably but nodded. “Yes. One in Serbia. He hadn’t been there very long when I went on a trip there with my father to visit the property and met him. He and I became friends almost at once, and since he was already eleven I rationalized it’d be pretty unlikely for him to be adopted. My father agreed to let Leo come live with us on the stipulation that I was responsible for helping educate him.”

            “That must have been easy. If the news reports are anything to go by Glen Baker’s nearly as bright as you are,” Break remarked.

            Elliot nodded. “Brighter, in a lot of ways.... He learned so quickly it was almost like he already understood everything in all the books I gave him and just had to recall it,” he said.

            “Maybe he came from an educated family in Serbia? Do you know?” Break asked.

            Elliot shook his head. “No.” He bit his lip. “He doesn’t...really talk about where he spent his childhood. Even I don’t know most of it.”

            “Do you know enough to know if where he grew up is the reason Charlotte and Lily are after you so fiercely?” Break shook his head. “You don’t have to give me details if they’re sensitive. I just want to know that.”

            “It’s possible...but not likely. Leo had a fearsome reputation where he grew up. People from his past would be very hesitant to pursue him. Besides, why wait all that time? Leo had been living and working beside me for three years before Charlotte and Lily’s pursuit began.” Elliot leaned against the wall. “Just based on timing it seems more logical that it has something to do with the orphanages, right?”

            “It does...” He rocked back on his heels. “Elliot, some of the orphanages your family runs are in...troubled areas...right? The Middle East, Southeast Asia, places like that?”

            “Mmhmm. It’s where human trafficking is most common. A lot of the children we take in are...Oh my God.” Realization settled over him and his expression shifted to slight horror. “You think Lily and Charlotte are part of a human trafficking organization?” He asked in a sharp whisper.

            “I do,” Break glanced down the hall. Satisfied at its emptiness he looked back at Elliot. “I think that’s why they’re tailing you and Leo, because you’re blocking their business...And I don’t think it stops with them. The whole Baskerville organization could be one enormous ring,” he murmured.

            Elliot’s face tightened into horror. “Are you serious? That’s what you think we’re dealing with?” he asked.

Break nodded. “And if the membership I’ve observed so far is anything to go by it could be very, _very_ powerful. Zai Vessalius was connected to it, now Charlotte...Even your family, though you’re fighting on the other side of the battle. Who knows how deep this runs into European aristocracy. We could be stumbling into something _huge_.”

            “That’s...W-We...” Elliot lifted one hand and passed it momentarily over his eyes, then ran his fingers back through his hair. He opened his eyes and looked at Break. “You need to talk to Oz. We saw something utterly impossible at the party before we escaped. What he knows might...might shed some light on a new facet of this.”

            Break nodded. “Okay.” He looked up at Elliot, his eyes stern. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he murmured.

            “Why?” Elliot asked in surprise. “It seems like-“

            “Don’t.” Break repeated more firmly. “We don’t know anything concrete yet. There’s no need to scare Leo or Raven or Liam. They’re all injured and weak already, this is the last thing any of them need. You and Oz and I can figure this out.”

            Elliot was silent for a long moment, considering Break. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “But when we do know something we _have_ to tell them.”

            “Of course.” Break took a step back. “But we have things to do before then. I want to dress Leo’s wounds and we still have to make dinner.” They started down the hall again. Break paused outside Liam’s bedroom to grab a large med kit off the floor before continuing on to Leo’s door. “Will you go to the kitchen and put some water on to boil? I’ll be right down.”

            Elliot nodded and continued down the hall, vanishing towards the living room when he reached the stairs. Break took a deep breath and pushed open the bedroom door. Leo was sitting in bed already, his hair washed and braided tightly against the back of his neck. He’d clearly found some clothes of Raven’s in the closet, a dark blue T shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts. They were so large on him he looked almost like a child, the image only enhanced by his rounded cheeks and large eyes. He turned to look at the door as Break entered.

            “I’m going to dress your wounds. A few looked like they needed stitches,” Break said. He walked to the bed and set the med kit down before taking a seat himself. “Are any of them still bleeding?”

            Leo shook his head. Without a word he pulled off his shirt and sat forward to allow Break to see his wounds more clearly.

            Break scooted closer, tugging the kit with him, and began looking over the scrapes and cuts and bruises on Leo’s arms for signs of infection. “This one might need some help,” he murmured to himself as he considered a large gouge near Leo’s spine. “Can you lie down?” He reached for the kit and pulled out sterile needles, latex gloves, and suture thread. He put on the gloves and rifled around in the kit until he found a tube of topical anesthetic. Once Leo had settled on his stomach Break dabbed it gingerly onto the wound and left it to sit while he cleaned his needle with rubbing alcohol. “She was really going for it...A few inches deeper and a little to the right this wound could have done serious damage to your spinal cord.”

            Still Leo offered no reply.

            Break sighed. He wiped the wound clean with an alcohol wipe and leaned in to begin carefully stitching Leo’s skin together. “Leo, if there’s something you want to say then say it. I can’t read minds.”

            Leo gritted his teeth. “If you’re here to kill me just do it,” he said quietly. “There’s no point in stitching me up first.”

            Break clicked his tongue. “As I recall, Leo, _you’re_ the one who tried to blow _me_ up,” he replied evenly. “I didn’t even pull my gun until it was in self defense.” He leaned in a little closer to get a better view of the wound as he stitched it closed.

            “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Leo murmured back.

            “Well have we tried to kill each other some other time?” Break asked.

            Leo gritted his teeth, Break’s flippancy stirring up frustration in him. “ _Who are you?_ Who sent you?!”

            “ _Sent_ me?” Break sat back and reached for a bandage to cover Leo’s wound. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, Leo. You must be confusing me for someone else...”

            Leo pulled himself back into a sitting position as Break helped him up. He reached out and gripped his shoulder with one strong hand, forcing him to look at him. “B-But your grip on your sword!” he said desperately. “Where did you learn to hold a sword like that?!”

            Break pulled Leo’s hand from his shoulder and turned his arm over to examine a wound on his forearm. “Yes, I know my grip’s a bit non-traditional, but there was no one at MI-6 who knew too much about swords, so I mainly taught myself,” he replied evenly. He reached for another bandage and dressed the wound on Leo’s arm before turning to his chest.

            Nervous panic spiked in Leo. “Stop playing these games with me!” he hissed. “I know who you are! I’ve only known a few people who held a weapon as easily as you do!”

            “Not as easily as you might think,” Break said tensely. He cleaned and dressed another set of gouges on Leo’s chest before speaking up again. “I’m not here to hurt you, Leo. I promise,” he murmured. “Please just try to relax.”

            The words only served to agitate Leo further. He gave a flighty, pained breath as Break pressed a dressing to one of his wounds. “Are you Sabre or Psychosis?” His voice rose a little. “Just tell me!”

            Break’s face flickered and he took his hands from Leo’s chest. “Leo...whatever battle you’re seeing isn’t happening here...” he offered gently. “There’s no winter wind right now. You’re safe.”

            The odd, almost poetic twist to the sentence made Leo furrow his brow. _Winter wind..._ He opened his mouth to protest but only let out a long sigh. His head fell and he lifted his fingers to run them over his pulled-back hair. His own voice, bitter with old fear, clustered up through the years between himself and a blunt, colorless memory. _Snow-banks taller than me. No relief from the wind except for in the dining room. No mercy. And no safety in my tent. Can’t be off-guard. I’m the only kid out here. Someone will take advantage of that if I’m not careful. Best to sleep during the day, in the trees._

            “Leo?”

            Break’s voice snagged Leo’s attention and he looked up at him. “Where’s Elliot?” he asked a little sharply.

            “Downstairs boiling water. I’m going to make dinner once I leave you.” Break reached into the med kit again and searched around until he came up with a pill packet. He offered it to Leo. “You need rest. These will help you sleep.”

            “Where’s Raven?” Leo asked, ignoring Break completely.

            “Also downstairs. He was asleep on Oz’s shoulder last time I saw him.” Break paused. “Leo...are you alright?” Break glanced at the door for a long moment then turned back to Leo. “Were you in the military?” he whispered. “You have the wide-eyed look of a soldier recalling something he’d rather forget...”

            Leo’s attempt to keep silent shattered around something in Break’s voice. _Recall._ He barely managed to keep himself at a whisper as he responded. “I was...in Russia...a long time ago...”

            “That’s where you grew up? You were a child soldier there?” Break pressed.

            Leo nodded again, swallowing against another flash of memory.

            “Hey...” Break leaned forward and caught Leo as he sagged forward. He helped him to lie down on his side and pulled up the blankets around him. “You have to relax. It’ll help the memories go hazier.”

            _Hazy._ Leo allowed himself to be pulled back and down into bed. He searched Break’s face as he leaned over him to adjust the pillows. “You _really_ don’t know what I’m talking about?” he whispered.

            Break shook his head. “No, Leo. I really don’t.” He offered Leo the pill and some water from the bedside table. “Take this. It’ll help with the clutter.”

            Leo let out another long breath and took the pill and water from Break. “The clutter...” he echoed. He swallowed it and relaxed onto his side as he reached up to pull off his glasses. “Promise me Elliot’s safe...” he mumbled, his voice blurring.

            Break nodded. He reached out with one gentle hand and began to run his fingers through Leo’s hair. “He’s safe. You both are. I need to talk to him about what happened tonight and then I’ll send him up here, okay? He’ll be here when you wake up,” Break promised softly.

            “Yes...” Leo mumbled, his thick Russian accent nearly overtaking the word in his tiredness. The world tilted and blurred into obscurity and Leo’s eyes fluttered closed then open again as he clung to wakefulness.

            Break watched Leo’s eyes flicker open and closed a few times as heavy, drug-induced sleep settled upon him. He waited until it had been a few full seconds until Leo’s eyes had opened and then leaned in to whisper to him.

            “Leo...?” Leo’s eyes opened and Break studied him closely. He took a deep breath. “...What made you think I was here to kill you...? Who did you think I was?”

            Leo stirred again, reluctant and blurry with sleep. “I knew a...a man like you. A Frenchman...a...” His voice stumbled as he searched for the word. “лиса...renard...” He opened his eyes as the English word surfaced and did his best to focus on Break’s face. “Fox...It was... some kind of a code name, I think.” Leo shuddered slightly. “He was...There was something about him...”

            “Shhhh...” Break murmured. “I’m not like that. What you’re remembering is just a specter. Everything’s alright now.”

            Leo’s shivering ceased. “Thank you...” he whispered.

“Just sleep, Leo. Relax...” Break coaxed. Leo’s eyes closed again and he relaxed back into sleep within seconds.

            Break waited a minute or two and then retracted his hand from Leo’s head. He stood and made his way to the door, depositing the med kit beside it and sparing a moment to look back at Leo. “A fox...” he murmured to himself. He lifted his hand and studied his palm as he continued out of the room and down the hallway towards the stairs.

            When he reentered the living room he found Raven sleeping soundly on the couch, his head resting on several pillows and a pendant clutched in one hand. Break approached and looked briefly down at him. _Since Zai died things have changed so much for you...at least externally. But you were still so scared when you even heard a mention of Lily’s name...How are you tangled up in this?_ He sighed and turned from Raven’s sleeping form, unwilling to wake him.

            He made his way to the kitchen where Oz and Elliot were _very_ clearly ignoring one another as they waited for him, Oz seated at a large table still busy with his notebook and Elliot on a stool at the counter almost halfway across the room with a needle and thread, stitching the hole a bullet had left in Liam’s vest closed.

            “You two get along well, I see,” he said with a snort of laughter.

            “Is Leo alright?” Elliot asked at once, his eyes fixing on Break.

            “He’s fine,” Break assured him. “He’s asleep. I told him that once you and I had talked about what happened tonight you’d go up there so he could see you were safe.”

            Elliot nodded. “I will...Was he very hurt?”

            Break opened one of the cabinets and scanned them for something to cook. A large box of pasta caught his eye and he pulled it out. “Not nearly as badly as he could have been. Only one of his wounds needed stitches. He’ll need to recover from the blood loss but he should be fine after that.” He poured the pasta into the pot and stirred it, then hopped up to sit on the counter and looked between Oz and Elliot. “So. What happened tonight?” Elliot and Oz both began to talk at once and Break held up a hand for quiet. “Why don’t you start with telling me about how Liam got shot. Who was the attacker?”

            “It was a man who showed up with Charlotte to tonight’s party. I’d never seen him before.” Elliot offered. “He was responsible for a large-scale attack on the building, which Liam stopped by killing him.”

            Break shifted a little. “Was Charlotte involved in the attack?”

            “She seems to have been,” Elliot affirmed. A bit of bitterness slipped into his voice. “In the chaos it created she was able to steal the purple diamond on display...”

            “That must sting a little,” Break said wryly. He nodded to Oz. “Your turn. Why the notes?”

            Oz considered his paper, his brow furrowing as he searched for words. “There’s...It’s going to sound crazy. I think I know why the attacker chose to use mustard gas instead of something else...He was immune to it.”

            Break blinked a few times. “ _Immune_? Isn’t the point of mustard gas that nobody’s immune to it?” he asked.

            “Yes,” Oz said seriously. “That’s why this was so disturbing...But Liam can corroborate my story and so can Elliot. The gas was so thick it had people who’d breathed it in writhing on the ground and the attacker was just...just sitting there. His eyes weren’t irritated, he wasn’t coughing, and there were no blisters.”

            “And there’s no reason that could happen? No...No weakness in the gas or anything against certain people?” Break asked.

Oz shook his head. “It’s medically impossible. There isn’t any medication in existence that can prevent burns from sulfur dioxide. You can’t even treat the burns, you just have to wait them out,” he replied.

“That’s what made it so lethal when it was used in the World Wars. _Nobody_ could escape it,” Elliot added.

Break nodded. “Well what would our mystery man have to do to be able to be the first person in history to do it?” he asked Oz.

Oz studied his paper again, scanning his notes and drawings for a solution. “Mustard gas attacks at the cellular level, especially in soft tissue areas. As far as I can figure that means he’d have to have had a different cellular makeup than any other human being. Either that or some kind of compound in his skin that acted as an armor.” He shook his head. “But to engineer something like that...I didn’t think it was even possible...And to apply it to a human? No way. Even an animal subject would die within hours.”

“And you’re sure he wasn’t some sort of machine?” Break asked.

Oz crossed his arms and looked up at Break. “AI doesn’t bleed,” he said pointedly. “He was human.”

Elliot shifted a little uncomfortably. “Was. He’s _definitely_ dead. Liam shot him in the head.”

“Well good.” Break hopped off the counter and returned to the pasta. He stirred it again then took the pot to the sink and poured out the water. “Either of you allergic to anything?” he asked more loudly as he returned the pasta in its pot to the counter and began examining the preserved food in the cupboard.

Elliot snickered and Oz hissed something at him in a sharp whisper. “I’m allergic to strawberries. So hopefully nothing that’ll be in pasta,” he said.

Break laughed. “ _Strawberries?_ I didn’t even know people could be allergic to strawberries,” he teased.

“Oz is sub-human,” Elliot said matter-of-factly.

Break snorted. “Fair.” He returned to the stove with a can of tomato sauce and a small jar of preserved garlic. He opened the can and dumped the contents into a small pot along with some of the garlic, then set it on the stove to cook. With dinner in preparation he slid up onto the counter again. “Oz, if an organization is capable of the type of genetic engineering needed to make a man resistant to mustard gas what else do you think they could do?” he asked.

The seriousness of the question cut through the levity that had fallen over the room and banished the smile that had woken on Oz’s face. He looked back down at his notes. “I honestly don’t know...If they’re capable of things _this_ complex then it might just be a matter of creativity rather than technology.”

Break glanced at Elliot briefly then returned his attention to Oz. “I’m asking because Leo’s wounds didn’t look like they’d been inflicted by knives...They looked like claw marks.”

Elliot let out a heavy breath and lifted his hands to cover his eyes.

In a moment of genuine sympathy Oz frowned in Elliot’s direction. “What makes you say that?” he asked Break.

“The raggedness of the edges, and the fact that they weren’t of even depth along their length. It’s possible Lily was just wearing some sort of weapon with claws attached to it on her hands...but if we’re talking about one man who was probably associated with the Baskervilles being immune to mustard gas it’s not out of the question that another of their associates has a different physical modification to make her hands more similar to an animal’s, right?” Break asked.

“No...” Oz lifted his own hand and studied it. “Claws strong enough to do serious damage to the human body couldn’t be made of the same material that our fingernails are, though...They really would have to be animal in nature.”

Elliot’s hands fell from his face and thudded lightly against the table as he turned to Break and Oz. “They’re super-soldiers, then? That’s what the Baskervilles as an organization are?” he asked tersely.

“I don’t think that’s all of it,” Break said with a shake of his head. He hopped from the counter and walked around it to stir the sauce a few times, then took to absently pacing the kitchen. “There’s layers to it. Liam and I have been trying to gain information on this group for months now and the only thing we’ve been able to find out is that at some point everything and everyone to do with them just vanishes.” He turned to the two of them.

“You tracked Charlotte here, didn’t you? You must have had some intel from somewhere that led you to her, right?” Elliot asked.

“Only the Villars family name.” Elliot remained silent and Break gave him a quizzical look. “Basker _ville_. Villars. It’s a fake name.” He nodded to Elliot. “I bet you’ve had the history of European nobility memorized since you were old enough to walk. Who’re Charlotte’s ancestors?”

Elliot was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “The Villars family rose up in the wake of World War Two. It wasn’t horribly uncommon...People made money off the war and their families rose to prominence as a result.”

“That’s the family...but what about its _members_? Have you ever seen a member of the Villars family at one of your family’s events? Or heard them mentioned in the paper? My research has turned up exactly what you’re talking about. There are records of a family but not records of anyone _in_ that family.”

“Wait...” Oz said. He tapped his pencil against his temple. “Now that I’m thinking about it...there _is_ one more person with the name Villars, at least...After my father died I went through all his records. He sometimes did business with a man listed as Mr. Villars.”

Break snapped his fingers. “That makes sense. We _know_ your father was connected with the Baskervilles,” he said.

“What?” Elliot asked in alarm.

Break paused in his pacing. “Just before he died he gave away some information to Liam. He mentioned the Baskervilles by name,” he said.

“As far as I recall he seemed to think _you_ were associated with them, too,” Oz said in a voice laced with ice.

Break turned slowly to look at him. “I am _not_ a Baskerville,” he replied in a voice that was twice as cold and infinitely fiercer.

Nervous tingles awoke on Elliot’s skin. “What information did Zai give up?” he asked in hopes of distracting Break’s attention from Oz, where it was fixed.

Break broke his focus on Oz and returned to the pot to stir the pasta sauce. “He told Liam that no one knew anything about the Baskervilles for a reason. They’re hiding behind some sort of façade. It’s the same way crime families are structured. If nobody knows anything nobody can talk.” He rapped his knuckles on the counter.

“Oz, what was your father’s level of involvement?” Elliot asked hesitantly.

“He used some of his factories in the Middle East and Eastern Europe as...” Oz’s fist clenched tight around his pencil. “as ferrying points for weapons. And for victims of human trafficking.”

Elliot’s hand flew to his mouth and he looked wide-eyed at Break. “It’s like you said...” he said.

Break leaned on his elbows on the counter. “What if that’s where the physically modified humans come from? What if they’re kidnapped and...and experimented on...?” He paused, his voice and heart growing heavy. “An organization involved in the sex trade could probably make enough money to support itself even with what must be immense costs for medical facilities and compounds. Nothing sells for a higher price than a human being.”

“Do you have to put it like that?” Oz asked, his voice lost somewhere between sharp and heartbroken.

“Who...Who could even come up with something like that?” Elliot asked in horrified disbelief.

“You said families rose to prominence on profits from the World Wars, didn’t you?” Break asked. “...There were plenty of human experiments done at that time, weren’t there?”

Elliot’s mouth opened and closed but speech ultimately eluded him. He gave a wordless, sickened nod.

Sobering silence settled over the three of them. Break removed the sauce from the heat and dumped the pasta into it.

“An organization like that would need to be big, wouldn’t it? To have a lot of people protecting its interests and keeping away prying eyes?” Elliot finally asked.

“To remain so elusive that even agencies like MI-6 don’t have any intelligence on them? Absolutely. That’s probably why the Villars name was created. They send their agents out into society under that name so any suspicions will fall onto a family that doesn’t even exist. It’s a pretty watertight way to run an organization,” Break said. “And if Lily’s attack on Leo is anything to go by they’re not above using force, either.”

“It seems like the bigger an organization the harder it would be to keep secret, doesn't it?” Oz asked. “Every new agent is someone else who might turn against the organization, right?”

“Not if you’re ruthless about dissent,” Oz replied. “That’s how the Jackrabbit business has remained in the shadows. For groups like this desertion is the highest treason there is, and it’s treated as such.”

“Oh...” Elliot said, his stomach twisting.

Another beat of silence passed as Break scooped the pasta into six mismatched bowls. Elliot set down his needle and thread and watched Break listlessly and Oz returned to rereading his notes for the thousandth time in an attempt to glean meaning from them.

Elliot looked up at Break as he set two bowls of pasta and two large glasses of water on a makeshift cookie sheet tray in front of him. “So...So what now?” he whispered.

Break gave Elliot a slow, comforting nod. “Now you bring this upstairs to Leo and try to get a little bit of rest. We’ll compile everything we have and decide what happens next after Liam and Leo have regained consciousness and the rest of us have gotten some sleep. It seems like God himself couldn’t get into this house without Oz or Raven’s permission, so I think it’s safe to assume nobody’s going to get us here,” he said. He waved Oz over with a hand. “Can I see your notebook, Oz?”

            Oz stood and joined Break and Elliot at the counter. He flipped to a new page in the notebook and offered it to Break.

            Break took it and wrote the word ‘Baskervilles’ at the top. He paused and then lowered his pen again to draw a symbol beside the word, an oval with a crescent moon shape inside it and a few lines radiating from its upper edge.

            “What’s that?” Elliot asked as Break finished drawing.

            “A symbol associated with the group. It seems to be something used to denote membership,” Break replied. He looked up at Elliot. “Why? Does it mean something to you?”

            Elliot shook his head. “N-No... I’ve read a lot of historical texts and ocular symbolism comes up in just about every culture on earth at some point. But I’ve never seen something like that,” he said.

            Break hummed thoughtfully. “Let us know if you think of anything about what it might mean, okay? _Anything_. If we could even connect this symbol to a country of origin that would help,” he said.

            Elliot rose. “I’ll think about it,” he assured Break. He took the tray in hand and walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, careful to keep his steps light so as not to disturb Raven. The upstairs hallway was bright with illumination, which spilled into the bedroom where Leo was sleeping as Elliot pushed the door open with his back. He eased it mostly shut again after creeping into the room and made his way to Leo’s bed.

            As ever sleep had made Leo seem as small as a fragile crab curled halfway into its shell. Elliot set the tray on the bedside table and took a seat next to Leo. He reached out with one hand and cupped the back of Leo’s head gently. “Thank God you’re alright...” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

            Elliot’s touch or the sound of his voice stirred Leo into drowsy wakefulness. His eyes opened and he blinked a few times in confusion.

            Elliot reached for one of Leo’s hands at once and lifted it gently to his cheek, allowing Leo to feel his way across his face. He closed his eyes beneath the gentle pats of Leo’s soft fingertips and let out a long sigh of relief.

            “Elliot?” Leo asked blearily after a few seconds of touch.

            “It’s me,” Elliot affirmed. He took Leo’s hand from his cheek and cupped it in both of his. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a whisper.

            “Tired,” Leo mumbled, his speech slow and garbled with the drugs in his system. “And glad...to see you...I was...worried.”

            “I was worried about you, too,” Elliot replied.

            “You aren’t hurt?” Leo asked.

            “Only a little shaken up.” Elliot paused and ran his thumb over the back of Leo’s hand. “Leo...Can I ask you something?”

            “Yeah...” Leo pulled himself up in bed a little in an attempt to pull together his mental resources to give a response.

            “Don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself,” Elliot said. He reached down and stilled Leo with a hand on his shoulder. “Have you ever known anyone aside from Lottie with the last name Villars? When you were fighting in Russia, maybe?”

            Leo made a soft sound as he pondered the answer. “No...I wasn’t allowed...to know anybody’s name...who wasn’t in my unit...” he said with a soft shake of his head. “Why?”

            “We can talk about it when you wake up,” Elliot said. He released Leo’s hand and pulled up the blankets around him.

            “You’re not leaving, are you?” Leo asked in agitation as Elliot shifted the blankets.

            “No, I’m not leaving,” Elliot said. He picked up one of the bowls of pasta and glasses of water and walked around to the other side of the bed, where he settled again. “I’ll be right here when you wake up again. I promise.”

            “Oh...” Leo said, the syllable emerging more as a relieved hush of breath than an actual word. “Thank you...Elli...”

            Elliot’s heart leaped into his throat at the use of the pet name and he choked on his first bite of pasta. “Y-You’re welcome,” he replied as comprehensively as he could manage. Leo offered no reply, his breathing already having evened out into that of a sleeper. He sighed heavily and returned to his pasta. “Dumbass,” he grumbled to himself between bites.

            Elliot’s thoughts meandered in and out of facets of his conversations with Break as he ate in the half-darkened silence of the bedroom. _Villars...Villars...What’s above that? Who’s pulling the strings...? Who do they control? Who’s involved?_ He set aside his empty bowl and sat back in bed, staring up at the bar of light lancing across the ceiling from the open door. _And why are two of their members targeting Leo and I? My father never mentioned having to be on guard for an organization when I took over the orphanages..._

            Suspicion shivered through Elliot’s gut along with a wave of icy dread. He looked down at Leo and reached out to touch him again. His hand smoothed over the familiar black braid at the base of Leo’s skull a few times, the familiar sensation of it stirring ease through him. _It must be something personal. Something one of us has done to offend the organization as a whole. Something that would incite a lot of anger..._ Elliot swallowed. His next pass over Leo’s head was slower, more deliberate, and this time when he reached the base of Leo’s skull he stopped.

            A long moment of hesitation swung through him but he bit down on it. He took a deep breath and pushed Leo’s braid aside. He leaned in close to study the skin of the back of his neck. Almost at once he found a familiar scar just above Leo’s hairline, a small but dark and messy thing that had the look of something gouged with uncareful hands. Elliot’s breath caught as he studied what he could see of the area around the scar.

            On close inspection it became clear to Elliot that the ragged line of scar tissue marring the back of Leo’s skull had been carved there to disguise something older. A scar marked into distinction by the smooth pinkness of a brand. Elliot’s stomach churned. _Desertion is the highest treason there is..._

            Branded onto the skin at the base of Leo’s skull, marred half out of recognition by the carved line of the scar, was a newly, terrifyingly familiar oval with a few rays disappearing into Leo’s hair and a crescent moon of eerily pink flesh protruding from its center.

            Elliot released Leo’s head and lifted a hand to cover his mouth. Tears sprung into his eyes and he shook his head. _Eyes better than any other sniper’s...an ability to see perfectly in the dark..._ He sniffled. _Lily and Charlotte’s pursuit...Desertion... dissent... high treason..._

“Leo...” Elliot croaked, his voice already weak with oncoming crying. He rolled onto his side beside Leo and scooted close to him, pressing his forehead gently between his shoulder blades and wrapping a protective arm around his waist. Another thought swam to the surface in Elliot’s and he sobbed almost inaudibly and squeezed Leo even closer.

 

_Leo Baskerville..._

           

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes...the plot thickens.   
> No more months-long breaks between chapters. I promise.   
> Expect the next (feat. Leo's backstory) before March!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt not to completely butcher the Serbian language I didn't attempt translations for the ridiculous amount of dialogue in this chapter. Note that dialogue that appears in BOLD is meant to be in Serbian, the Slavic language that Leo speaks natively. Anything else is plain English.

_Winter –_

           

Winter had settled hard overnight, disfiguring the mountains into indistinctness and palling the air wan and grey. The ancient pine and fir trees speared up in an assault on the sky, their branches slippery and dark beneath chunks of heavy snow. All of Russia was silent, birds and running water having been curtained by the storm and the rustle and chase of hunting predators guillotined into silence by the onslaught of winter, the common enemy of all living things.

**“How long are the days out here?”**

            The man’s voice barely reached Leo through the thick fur hat and facemask he wore to keep winter at bay from as much of his skin as possible. “ **Short. Later in winter we’ll barely even have days. Just a few hours of twilight before the sun sets again** ,” he replied. He gritted his teeth and shoved his way through a snow bank at least half his height. Snow penetrated his armor of winter clothes in a few places, jetting cold down the side of his face and over his right wrist. “ **Fuck** ,” he hissed.

            “ **You must find it hard out here in winter, being so small and young** ,” the soldier said.

            Leo stopped, still as the dead forest around them for a moment. Then he whipped around, tugging the rifle from his shoulder as he did and slamming it into the back of the man’s knees, bringing him down into the bank beside him. He grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair hard to keep him in place and leaned in close to him. “ **Don't disrespect me** ,” he growled.

            The man’s gaze traversed Leo’s face, flickering as he settled on his barely visible eyes.

            Leo blinked at him. “ **I see my reputation precedes me** ,” he said with a slightly wry laugh. He reached up with his free hand to pull away his facemask, revealing cheeks still round with youth but carved sharp and defined by a hard, hungry life, and a delicate mouth set in a grim line. His breath clouded the air and steamed up behind the lenses of his glasses, leaving them thick with fog. He removed them and blinked at the man again. His eyes were as large and pretty as a girl’s, steeply pointed at the outside corners and rimmed with thick lashes. The violet and gold in them glowed in the white air, precious and lethal as runnels of magma.

            Leo clicked his tongue. “ **What stories have you heard? That I never miss a shot, even in the dark? That I can read a man’s soul in his eyes and steal it at will? That at night I run the forest hunting like a wolf**?” A grin perked up on his lips. “ **That I’m an upyr?** ”

            The man swallowed, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he studied Leo. He shook his head. “ **Only...Only that you’re ten years old...** ” he offered in a hushed, fearful voice.

            A long moment passed in silence. Leo attempted to search the man’s face for sincerity, but without his glasses his eyes only blurred and strained at the effort. A lightning flash of pain wracked his right eye and he cried out involuntarily, dropping his hold on the man to reach up and cover his eye. “ **Shit** ,” he whispered, rubbing at the tears on his cheek with the back of his hand as he replaced his glasses. He examined his glove absently as he lowered his hand, grimacing at the flecks of purple pigment among the moisture there.

            “ **Are you alright?** ” the man asked, voice soft with concern. He bent his head to try and look into Leo’s face but gave a stumbling, surprised cry instead as Leo shoved him backwards into the snow.

            “ **Don’t** ,” Leo said. He closed his pained right eye and looked the man up and down again with his left. “ **If you’re soft out here you’ll get killed** ,” he continued bluntly. “ **It’s not too late to go back to the train station.** ”

            The man pulled himself to his feet again and shook snow from his clothes. “ **No** ,” he said. “ **Is your eye-** “

            “ **My eye’s fine**.” Leo shouldered his rifle and turned to continue trodding off through the snow without waiting to see if the man was following him. _I’m not weak,_ he said to himself as he pushed through the drifts, stumbling over rocks and unseen roots. He could feel the man’s eyes on his back and his spine tingled in irked defiance. _Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me!_ He repeated the thought again and again, forcing himself to remain facing forwards and to continue walking towards the camp though everything in him itched to turn, take his rifle in hand, and fire a bullet into the man’s skull.

            They crested a steep hill after another silent hour of plodding through unmarked forest and found themselves standing at the top of a low inlet of valley between two thick stands of trees. A spread of half-buried cabins and reinforced tents stuck out as points of darkness in the snow, their chimneys spewing columns of smoke to add to the persistent greyness of the air around them. No life stirred in the camp. In cold this harsh even the meanest dogs had been brought inside.

            “ **I’ll bring you to see the commanding officer. He’ll tell you where to go from there,** ” Leo said as he began to pick his way down into the valley.

            “ **Alright**...” The man gave a little hum. “ **It’s rather beautiful out here...I’ve never been this far into the mountains.** ”

            “ **Well don’t get distracted by the scenery and let your guard down, city man. Last week we had two men carried off by wolves** ,” Leo said flatly.

            “ **That kind of thing really happens?** ” the man asked.

            “ **Why do you think I’m always armed?** ” Leo returned.

            They reached the base of the hill amid a small avalanche of falling snow. Closer up the camp was larger and more organized than it had appeared, with a low bunker at one end and neat lines of tents and cabins spreading towards the hills, their walls fortified with steel beams and their roofs slicked with pine needles to keep the snow from sticking and caving them in. Leo breathed a sigh of relief as they burst through the last of the untrodden drifts and onto the semi-packed pathways of snow leading between individual dwellings and the large communal structure at the center of the camp.

            “ **How many men are out here?** ” the man asked, scanning the tents and cabins for signs of life or movement.

            “ **Twenty-three**.” Leo scoffed. “ **And no, there aren’t any women, before you ask**.” He slung his rifle off his shoulder and began the process of disassembling it as he walked. “ **You’re the first new man to come here since summer. What brought you?** ”

            The man hesitated. “ **I...** ”

            Leo read his tone and nodded. “ **Running from a crime, then. You’re not the only one...But it must have been something grave for you to have to seek shelter _here_. What’d you do? Assassinate someone?** ”

            “ **It...I was hired. I didn’t know until too late that the woman I was sent after was a member of the Bratva’s wife** ,” the man said.

            Leo gave an impressed whistle. “ **A mafia killer. You must be skilled...Well keep your guard _extra_ high then. There are at least two Bratva associates in our ranks.** ” He finally turned to look up at the man and gave him an icy smile. “ **If I were you I’d start collecting peppermint teabags and licorice, and maybe get your hands on a book or two if you can.** ”

            The man’s brow furrowed. “ **Why?** ”

            Leo laughed. “ **They’re my favorite things. The best way to stop someone from bribing me to kill you is to bribe me not to kill you.** ” He nodded at the man’s uneasy expression. “ **The last mafia killer we had out here went missing after just two months. Before that it was a man who liked to cheat at cards, and just a month ago a man who stole liquor**.”

            “ **You...You kill your own comrades...?** ” The man asked in hushed disbelief.

            “ **Yeah**.” Leo came to a stop outside the door and turned to look up at the man, his eyes fixing solidly on him. “ **I’m a bad person to piss off. And nothing makes me angrier than when people hurt the animals or when they try to touch me. So keep your hands off of me and the butt of your gun away from the dogs and cats. Understand?** ” The man nodded and Leo turned from him. “ **Good**.”

            Leo pushed the cabin’s large door open and led the man inside. At once he set his disassembled rifle onto a table near the door along with a variety of other weapons and began unwinding the thick scarf from around his neck. “ **Hang up your coat and hat. The less water we track in from snowmelt the fewer boards get warped and the fewer drafts we have** ,” he said.

            Leo’s glasses fogged at once as the warm air radiated through the large communal cabin by fireplaces on opposite walls replaced the striking cold from outside. He cleaned the lenses with the end of his scarf and looked around the room to assure they were free of smudges.

            Despite its size the large communal cabin was fairly scant in decoration. Practical long tables for dining and meeting perched in the center of the room, each with roughly ten chairs surrounding them. A few armchairs sat in front of each fireplace along with roughly-hewn liquor cabinets and piles of firewood. The majority of the twenty three-man company occupied the space today, most playing cards or dice at the large tables or drinking in front of the fireplaces.

            A few black and brown elkhounds with wolfishly robust snouts and keen eyes looked up from their places lying on rugs in front of the fire as the door opened. One of them recognized Leo and hopped to its feet at once. Two others joined it at once and the little pack trotted across the room straight towards Leo.

            Leo smiled and hurriedly shrugged off his coat and hat. “ **The man you need to see is there** ,” he said to the other soldier. He pointed across the room to one of the gambling men with a large beard in cool greyish black, whose firm-set shoulders seemed as sturdy as the mountain itself. His attention flickered back to the dogs at once and he dropped to one knee before them.

“ **Hello girls. Have you been good?** ” Leo asked, his voice sweet and happy. The dogs reached him and the largest began instantly rubbing her muzzle against his face and shoulder, sniffing him for signs of injury. “ **I’m alright, Zinaida** ,” he said, offering his hands for her to smell next.

The smaller dog’s attention fixated on the newcomer behind Leo and her hackles rose. Her lip pulled back in a snarl to bare her teeth and she shifted her weight forward onto her toes.

“ **Lidiya**!” Leo chided. At the sound of her name the dog settled uneasily, shuffling closer to Leo while her eyes remained fixed on the stranger. “ **They won’t be like this for long. A few days maybe, while they get used to you. They’re bred for hunting, so don’t take it personally** ,” Leo said over his shoulder.

By now the little scene at the door had attracted the attention of the men in the hall, too. The leader Leo had mentioned rose to his feet in the wake of the dog’s snarling and approached the door. “ **Grigory**?” he asked as he approached.

The man behind Leo straightened. “ **Yes, sir**.”

The bearded man looked Grigory up and down, studying him with practiced calculation in his eyes. “ **I’m Matvei. You’ll report to me from now on**.” He looked down at Leo. “ **I trust you made it from the train station safely?** ”

Both dogs snarled again and the larger of the two shifted closer to Leo. Leo wrapped his arm around her shoulders and scratched at one of her ears. “ **No trouble** ,” he replied. “ **It’s too cold for anyone but us to be moving out here**.”

“ **Good. You’re free then** ,” Matvei replied. He nodded Grigory back towards the table he’d come from, where the game of dice was still being played. “ **You gamble?** ” he asked.

Leo watched the two men make their way across the room towards the dice game. “ **Grigory...** ” he said thoughtfully. He scratched at the dog’s ear again. “ **Maybe I should have asked his name**.” One of the dogs gave another whimper and he scratched her ear again. He rose to his feet and crossed the room, passing the groups of other men and the two fireplaces and coming to rest instead in an unoccupied corner of the room. A tiny corner furnace chugged away there, warming the space surrounding a shabby rug and a small pile of pillows leaning against the wall. Leo settled back against the pillows and reached behind the furnace for something. He fumbled for a second or two before coming up with a waterproof beaver skin bag. He opened it and pulled out a thick book. Though its cover was well-worn and its pages thin with having been turned many times over the title was still clearly legible. _Anna Karenina_ – _a novel_. He slouched contentedly against the wall and extended his legs straight outwards and almost at once one of the dogs laid down beside him and rested her large head in his lap. He propped his book between her ears and opened it to begin reading.

A shift in the room as he began to read was far from lost on Leo. Postures grew easier, laughter more frequent, and movement freer and less careful. “ **Idiots** ,” Leo mumbled to himself as he turned a page.

As expected it was only a minute or two before the newfound easiness in the room expanded and raised the volume level of conversations. Leo’s attention slipped away from the book in front of him – a familiar story now after six readings. His concentration wandered instead from conversation to conversation, searching absently for something interesting to listen in on.

An exchange at the main table between Matvei, a few other men, and Grigory provided a sticking point for Leo as he heard his name mentioned. His eyes remained carefully fixed on the page in front of him so as not to give himself away and he straightened his posture subtly to better hear over the hissing of the furnace beside him.

 **“...they’re trained to hunt more than animals. Both of those dogs have killed men. But that older bitch treats Leo like her own puppy** ,” one of the men at the table said.

“ **Where does he come from?** ” Grigory asked in hesitant wonder.

“ **Nobody knows. He’s been here longer than anyone at this table. That’s where you get the stories of him being some sort of demon** ,” Matvei replied.

Several whispered prayers followed.

“ **They’re not stories. He knows things no one’s ever told him, I swear. And haven’t you ever seen his eyes bleed?** ” another man insisted.

Matvei snorted. “ **I don’t care what he is as long as he keeps the barrel of his rifle trained where I tell him to**.”

A flurry of laughter.

“ **Is he really as good a shot as the people in Moscow say?** ” Grigory asked.

“ **Watch**.” Matvei’s voice rose. “ **Leo?** ”

Leo looked up from his book and into Matvei’s face. “ **Sir?** ” he said with a bored sigh.

Matvei’s expression soured in the face of Leo’s triteness but he made no move to contradict him. “ **Newcomer wants to see what you’re made of**.”

Leo’s mouth turned up at the corners. “ **But I’m unarmed, sir** ,” he said.

Matvei’s face remained stony.

“ **What, this?** ” Leo closed his book and reached beneath the furnace again and emerged with a well-used slingshot. “ **It’s just a toy**.” His smile grew a little as several of the men closest to him turned wary eyes in his direction.

“ **Like hell it is** ,” one of the men at the table mumbled.

“ **Don’t break anything you don’t want to be responsible for fixing** ,” Matvei growled as Leo reached beneath the furnace again for the bag of little stones that accompanied the slingshot.

Leo gave a hum to the request and tucked two stones into his palm and placed one in the U-shaped piece of leather at the base of the band. He closed his eyes and reached up to remove his glasses, which he held in his teeth as he blindly took up his slingshot. When his eyelids parted again the world near him swam with odd fragments of golden light and swirled with blurriness. But roughly ten feet away everything crystallized into fantastic detail. He concentrated on eradicating the flecks of light from his vision and scanned instead for something to shoot at.

A tiny twitch of movement in the distant corner of the room caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes. “ **That spider** ,” he said, nodding to the near-invisible creature.

“ **What spider?** ” Grigory asked as he turned along with the other men at the table to try and distinguish what Leo was looking at.

Leo spared half a heartbeat to aim his slingshot and loosed the stone. It flew in a perfect arc and struck the spider, then plummeted to the floor. “ ** _That_ spider** ,” Leo said. He took aim again, this time at a point right over Grigory’s shoulder. He loosed his slingshot once more and the stone whizzed past Grigory, so close it grazed his neck.

           Grigory’s hand flew to his skin in alarm and the other men at the table shared glances and a few snickers. “ **Y-You missed me** ,” he said in surprise.

            “ **I wasn’t aiming for you**.” Leo pointed over Grigory’s shoulder at a tiny sliver of space between two boards that made up the wall, where his stone was now lodged securely. “ **You’d know if I’d been trying to hit you**.”

            A few sets of eyes wandered to an armchair near the fireplace where a burly mountain of a bearded young man sat drinking and cleaning a weapon. His right eye was squinted far narrower than his left, pushed half-shut by a thick scar that sliced his eyelid neatly in two. He noticed the attention and looked up from his work. His uneven gaze settled first on the men at the main table and then slid smoothly in Leo’s direction.

            “ **Like I said, keep the butt of your gun away from the animals** ,” Leo said without breaking eye contact with the scarred man. “ **Right, Petyr?** ”

            “ **Right. Because you’d have no one to protect you without those dogs** ,” Petyr said with a sneer. “ **You’d just be a pretty little fuck toy. You look enough like a girl, I don’t think mo-** “ His voice was cut off as a stone from Leo’s slingshot flew straight into his mouth and knocked hard against his palette. He coughed hard and spat the stone onto the floor then looked up at Leo with a ravage of fury in his eyes. “ **You insufferable devil**...” Petyr rose to his feet and took a step towards Leo.

The dogs leapt at once from Leo’s lap. The elder one stepped in front of him, shielding his body with her own, and curled back her lips in a horrifyingly vicious snarl.

Behind her Leo replaced his glasses and rose to his feet. “ **Zinaida** ,” he said evenly. He placed a hand on the dog’s head and she grudgingly stepped aside, though her hackles remained raised and her lips pulled back.

Leo walked past her, the remaining dog on his heels. He strode fearlessly up to Petyr and stood before him with his shoulders set and his head tipped back to look him in the eye. The difference in their heights was astronomical – a foot and a half at least – but Leo remained undaunted. “ **If you need a reminder of what happened to the last man who tried to rape me I’d be happy to show you where I buried him**.” He tipped his head. “ **He died of a bullet to the head. That was _my_ work, not the dogs’**.”

Leo’s words only served to further enrage Petyr. He reached out with one hand and snagged the back of Leo’s head, his thick fingers winding securely in the hair at the base of Leo’s skull. At once both of the dogs began to bark and pace, the hair on their hackles rising.

Leo squirmed in Petyr’s grip, ignoring pain along the back of his skull and lunging out to bite down hard on his forearm. Petyr gave an involuntary cry and tossed Leo aside hard and carelessly. “ **Son of a bitch**!” he swore as he looked down at his arm. Several pinpricks of blood had already welled to the surface alongside crescent moons of deep red tooth marks.

Leo crashed into a pile of firewood as he hit the ground, upsetting several logs onto the floor around him. He darted into a less vulnerable sitting position at once and his eyes shot back to Petyr. He grinned at the expression of mixed rage and fear on the larger man’s face. “ **Better hope those stories about me being an upyr aren’t true, hmm?** ” he teased.

A loud thump resonated through the cabin as Matvei brought his fist down onto the table where he sat. His chair screeched across the floor as he pushed it back to rise to his feet. “ **Enough** ,” he hissed, eyes flickering between Leo and Petyr. “ **Petyr, infirmary. Leo, to your bunk**.”

Petyr flared. “ **Sir, he** -“

“ **Do you need me to repeat myself**?” Matvei’s voice rose nearly to the level of a shout and his face screwed up into hardness.

“ **No, sir** ,” Petyr conceded. He spared Leo another venomous glance then turned and left the cabin.

Matvei gestured to the rifle in pieces on the table where Petyr had been sitting. “ **Put that back togethe** r,” he ordered Leo before sitting again.

Leo obeyed, crouching before the disassembled rifle. He clicked and slid the pieces into place in a set of motions as easy as breathing then set the weapon on the chair Petyr had been occupying. With another glance and a nod at Matvei he turned to go.

“ **The dogs stay** ,” Matvei ordered.

Leo stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him. After a few silent breaths he conceded with a nod. “ **Yes, sir**.” He looked down at Zinaida and Lidiya and lifted a hand to them. “ **Stay** ,” he commanded. Lidiya sat at once but Zinaida continued to pace after him. Leo murmured a further order in a more commanding tone and the dog came to a reluctant halt, whining. “ **I’ll be alright** ,” he soothed her with a smile as he backed away and returned to the cabin door.

After bundling himself back into his winter gear, collecting his rifle and ammunition, and mentally staving himself against the discomfort of cold he pushed his way back out into the camp. A path had been worn into the knee-deep snow by the passage of men about their work and Leo followed it along the sprawl of structures that made up the soldiers’ quarters and armories until he reached his own living space.

It had once been a simple oilskin tent, but years of modification and reinforcement had left it looking more like a shack than anything else. During several years’ worth of short summer months Leo had carefully packed wood and stone up the walls to insulate the interior from outside precipitation and spent hours threading pine branches together and securing them to the tent’s top to create a waterproof roof. A meticulously stitched-together spread of parts of wolf pelts gleaned from successful hunts had been stretched over a wooden frame and tied into place to create something like a door, which Leo unlatched and pulled open as he reached the tent. He closed it behind him and flipped down the panels of oilskin that had served as the tent’s original entrance to add some degree of warmth to the space.

The space inside was modest and scantly decorated. Packed dirt made up almost the entirety of the floor, save the ground near a low cot near the center of the room, where fox pelts had been stitched together to make something like a rug. Two shabby, hand-constructed shelves occupied one wall, populated by an array of clothes, weapons, and ammunition. A corner of one shelf had been reserved for the eleven books that made up Leo’s tiny library and a tin where he kept the candy and teabags soldiers sometimes paid him in exchange for unsavory deeds. A negligibly small cast-iron furnace hunkered in the corner nearest the bed, steaming with warmth from a few logs Leo had left burning through the night. He crossed to it and crouched to warm his hands after removing his gloves. The shift in temperature made him sigh in relief and barely a minute passed before he shifted onto his knees and pulled off the thick winter coat he wore.

His mouth turned up at the corners and a flicker of eagerness filled his heart as he swung around on his knees to face a large chest situated just beside the furnace. He pulled the lid open and his smile widened.

A mottled orange, white, and grey cat lifted her head at the sound of Leo’s voice. Her jaws parted in a yawn and she stretched then arched her back to stand. As she stood and propped her front feet on the edge of the chest to greet Leo five tiny balls of tabby-brown and spackled white and black fur shifted and mewled, displeased with the absence of their mother’s warmth.

Leo scratched the cat’s ears and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “ **Hello, Galina**.” He turned his attention to the kittens in the chest and leaned forward to look more closely at them. “ **And hello, little ones**.”

Galina dropped from the side of the chest and sprawled once more onto her side next to her children. One of the kittens stood and wobbled its way towards Leo’s fingers as he extended them. It gave a meow and toppled onto its side. Leo chuckled and began petting it with gentle fingers.

“ **Will you tell me who their Papa is today?** ” Leo asked with a smile. Galina gave another meow and he shook his head. “ **I see. Maybe I should have named you Karenina, since you keep so many secrets.** ”

Another of the kittens stood from her mother’s side and toddled towards Leo. When he extended his other hand rather than accepting his affection like her sibling the kitten stood up on her hind legs, fell forward onto Leo’s hand, and began to nibble on his fingers. “ **You’ll be as great a mouser as Elfis when you’re a little old** er,” he said. “ **Maybe I’ll name you Borya. Fighter**.” He smiled at the other kitten, which had sprawled on its side and was purring beneath his continued petting. “ **And you’ll be Feliks**.” He studied the other kittens. “ **And your brothers and sisters are still too quiet to name, I see**.” He tugged his hand from Borya’s grip and scratched her mother’s ear instead. “ **You’re a good mama, Galina, even if you did go and find yourself a lover during the coldest months of the year, you silly thing**.”

He sat back on his heels and reached into the pocket of a long pouch on the back of his hip usually reserved for ammunition. He pulled out a mass of oilcloth and unwrapped it to reveal the skinned and cleaned body of what had been a fat rat. “ **Here, I’ve brought you something**.” He placed the meat into the chest then closed it and stood to return to his bed to give the mother and her kittens space to eat.

As he sat and pulled one of his rifles from its place on the shelf to clean it another cat appeared from beneath his bed and hopped up beside him. This one had the burly look of a ratter, his face studded with scars and his short grey fur patchy in places. He gave a growly meow and settled on the bed in front of Leo, the tip of his tail flicking as he watched him work.

“ **If I don’t get this done thoroughly are you going to report me to Matvei?** ” Leo asked playfully. The cat offered no reply but a slightly grumpy narrowing of his eyes. “ **I just know you’re a spy, you can’t hide it from me**.”

The cat meowed again and lifted a paw to begin cleaning himself.

“ **Maybe you’re the Papa, hmm, Vlad? Not the handsomest boy around but certainly the strongest...** ” Leo smiled. “ **Galina, do you have a fondness for grizzled old soldiers?** ” The grey cat’s ears pricked up at the sound of the name and Leo smiled. “ **You recognize your lady-love’s name?** ” He reached out with one finger and tapped the grey cat’s nose. It gave an angry hiss and swiped at him with claws extended. Leo’s hand barely made it out of range and he stuck his tongue out at the cat. “ **Sorry Vlad, you’ll have to be quicker than that to catch me**.”

Vlad returned to licking his paw and swiping it over his ears to clean them.

“ **I know you aren’t as fond of me as Zinaida and her husband and their pups, but when Matvei comes to give me hell for making a scene in the main cabin can you promise me you’ll at least _try_ to give him a scratch?** ” Leo asked the cat. He frowned as no answer came. “ **I wish the snow would hurry up and melt a little so we could start work again. It pisses me off to be stuck in camp.** ”

The cat’s tail twitched.

“ **Are you _agreeing_ with me? Careful, Vlad, I’ll start thinking of you as a friend**.”

The cat’s tail picked up speed and it rose to its feet, hackles rising and spine arching as it turned towards the door.

The shift was far from lost on Leo and he sighed resignedly. He rose from his bed and walked across the room to untie the loops keeping the oilskin panels at the tent’s entrance shut, then pushed the door open.

Matvei stood in the snow, expression stern and sour and hands clenched into fists. Leo barely had time to open his mouth before Matvei had lifted a foot and kicked him squarely in the chest, hard enough to send him sprawling backwards onto the floor before his bed. Leo’s breath shot out of him as he landed and he gave a strangled cry of alarm as his head smacked the ground. Fear swarmed up in him as his vision clouded and then went devastatingly black, save for pops of gold light. He scrambled to his feet and back towards the bed, searching blindly for the half-assembled rifle as a means of protection.

“ **How many times do I have to tell you to keep your head down and your mouth shut before you listen, you little piece of shit?** ” Matvei roared.

Leo abandoned his futile pursuit of a weapon and dived beneath the bed instead as he heard Matvei approaching. He smacked his forehead hard enough on the cot’s steel rim that it set his ears ringing but was undeterred as he scrambled for safety.

Matvei’s hand closed around Leo’s ankle and he kicked out furiously with his other foot. “ ** _No_** _!”_ he shouted. “ **Let go of me**!”

Matvei paid Leo no mind and hauled him from beneath the bed regardless of his protests. He threw him onto his back on the ground and knelt over him, pinning his tiny arms and legs easily to the ground.

Leo’s cry of protest was cut off as Matvei’s hand closed over his mouth. He leaned in close enough that his breath fumed hot over Leo’s cheek. “ **What do you think the men would do to you if they knew they could blind you for minutes at a time just by smacking the back of your head hard enough?** ” he growled. His free hand wandered down Leo’s chest and settled threateningly on his lower stomach. “ **The only reason I’m not going to turn you over and show you the hard way is because I have orders not to**.” His hand dropped and tightened around Leo’s throat instead, constricting his already labored breath. He lifted Leo’s head and jerked it back against the ground. “ **Do you hear me?!** ”

“ **Y-Yes, sir...** ” Leo croaked. Every muscle in his body was clenched with terror in the face of Matvei’s touch and his head rang with pain and angry droning sounds as his vision struggled to clear.

“ **Good**.” Matvei lifted his hand from Leo’s stomach and shoved him aside.

Leo scrambled away as Matvei released him, scooting as far as he could towards the wall. He blinked madly and rubbed at his temples, struggling as much as he could to regain his sight.

“ **I have more to ask you**.” Matvei stood and returned to the door, closing and latching it before stomping across the room and taking a seat on the closed chest. “ **What do you know about the new man?** ” he asked, his voice low. “ **You always know something.** ”

The sound of Matvei taking a seat on the chest brought further fear up in Leo. _Please keep quiet, Galina...Please keep your little ones quiet, too..._ he prayed. “ **He’s fleeing a crime** ,” Leo said. “ **He killed a Bratva’s wife**.”

Matvei clicked his tongue. “ **He won’t last long once that comes out...Have you told anyone else?** ”

“ **You’re the first one to ask** ,” Leo said.

“ **Well then I’ll pay you for your silence now**.” Matvei kicked the chest behind him with his heel, inciting a flurry of noise from within. “ **I know what you’re keeping in here. Say a word to anyone else and I’ll slit these kittens’ throats**.”

Horror rose in Leo and he shook his head violently. “ **Don’t! I won’t say a thing, I swear**!” he pleaded.

Matvei clicked his tongue. “ **If I asked you to kill a man you wouldn’t even blink, but here you are trying to stop me killing a _cat_?** ” he said in wry disbelief.

“ **Cats don’t try to fuck me when I’m on patrol or beat the shit out of the dogs or each other just because they’re angry,** ” Leo said.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to think,” Matvei mused. “ **When I came here I was told you’d obey any order. That that’s how they made you**.”

Leo scrubbed once more at his eyes. Relief sang through him as a bit of blurred light came through his eyelids when he opened them again. “ **When you came here I was told you wouldn’t throw me into walls and blind me like my last CO did. My eyes mean a lot to the people who’re _really_ in charge...I know that when the snow starts melting the Frenchman will be back. I don’t think he’d appreciate finding out what amateurs the people wielding his perfect gun are**.” Leo’s eyes finally cleared enough that when he looked up at Matvei his form was visible, if still somewhat blurry.

Matvei kicked the chest behind him once again and rose, glaring down at Leo. “ **The older you get the more insufferably defiant you become. You’re right, come spring the boss will be back. And I _assure_ you he’ll hear about your newfound rebellious streak**.”

Without another word Matvei stalked out of the tent and slammed the door behind him.

In his absence Leo gave a sigh and sagged back against the wall. “ **Fuck him**...” he growled to himself. He blinked a few more times and his vision cleared sufficiently to allow him a clear view of Vlad sitting beneath the bed, his pointed ears erect and his tail flicking. “ **Nice job, Vlad. You showed him** ,” Leo said wryly.

Nausea twisted Leo’s gut as he pulled himself to his feet, along with a dizziness so intense it sent him sprawling involuntarily onto his bed. He groaned and reached up to feel his forehead. As expected a sticky drop of blood peeled away on his fingertip. _I guess I hit my head harder than I thought when I was crawling under the bed..._ he thought.

He did his best to ignore the pain as he stretched out one arm and lifted the lid of the chest. The mewling audible inside gave him peace at once and he pushed the lid hard enough that it bounced up and remained open. Almost at once Galina hopped out and up onto the bed beside Leo, where she curled at his side. “ **I won’t let him take your babies, Galina** ,” Leo assured the tabby as he began to scratch absently at her ears and spine. “ **Matvei’s just a stupid, useless brute of a man**...” Galina meowed and stretched against Leo’s side. He let his eyes fall closed as he continued to pet her. “ **And just like everyone else someday he’ll end up on the wrong side of my rifle. Then we won’t have to worry about him at all**.”

 

* * *

 

_The Fox -_

 

In late April alarming green began springing up through the thick pelt of snow that had ensnared the Siberian landscape for months. Sheets of ice snapped and withered, waking torrential rivers that cavalcaded down from the mountains and flooded their banks. Elk, bears, and birds returned to their summer wandering grounds, peopling the woods with shifting silhouettes. And as the mountains woke from their sleep so too did the sharp sound – more distant than the horizon – of train whistles piercing the sky. The presence of an outside world once again grew tangible to the occupants of the secret military camp and along with it the usual upsurge in investigation and threat.

For Leo the season marked another joyful return: the return of an almost daily hour-long pilgrimage through unmanned and mostly uncharted forest to reach any in a network of sniper’s nests perching in the thick trees and undergrowth that overlooked the local base of operations his camp had been established to monitor and aid in the protection of when enemy agents appeared to threaten it.

The first day of May found him atop a tumble of rocks near one of the waterfalls that poured down into the canyon where the main base was located. A rifle was tented on the stone before him but he had relaxed away from it to lean against some taller rocks behind him. He’d removed his glasses and pulled his hair back into a tight ponytail so none of it could obscure his view, and his eyes were trained with perfect focus on a cluster of distant activity. The movement was centered around what had once been a grandiose home, a mansion in the style of a now-dead empire or family. Its use now, however, had far more to do with a company of several men in lab coats and ever-unseen cargo brought to the house on heavily guarded trucks.

“ **I wonder if that’s where I came from, Lidiya** ,” Leo said thoughtfully.

The dog, which was sprawled on the rocks beside him dozing in the sun, lifted her head at the sound of his voice and gave a yawn.

A nudge against Leo’s other side made him smile. He replaced his glasses and turned to face Zinaida, who was nuzzling against his shoulder. He lowered his head and rubbed his forehead against hers. “ **Don’t worry, Zinnie, I’m not trying to replace you. You’ve been a good mama**.”

The pressure of another snuffling touch on the back of his neck made Leo laugh. He reached one hand up behind his head to pet the bone-white dog lying on the rocks behind him. “ **And you’ve been a good papa, Vikto** r.” His forehead wrinkled in consideration. **“...I do wonder, though**.”

As Leo watched a tough-looking brown vehicle trundled out of the forest, its engine loud enough to startle birds from the trees. He sat up straighter and then leaned forward and flattened himself onto his stomach before his rifle, ready for combat if needed. The car came to a stop before the shabby house and its passenger side door opened.

Leo’s spine tingled and his sharp hunting instincts kicked in, setting him almost subconsciously glancing around for hiding places. He caught himself and blinked in surprise. _What was that?_ He blinked a few times to clear his vision and studied the man whose exit from the car had inspired the odd feeling. He was a foreigner without question, dressed in elegant, aristocratic clothes, and carried himself like a man deeply assured of his own power. His silvery-white hair was long but tied up away from his face, and his sharp face home to a set of violet blue eyes. When he took a step and began to move towards the house grace and poise oozed from his shoulders, pooling behind him like a cloak. In all the experience of watching him was fascinating, like watching a snowstorm at sunrise.

“ **Who is that**?” Leo wondered aloud, barely daring to let his voice escape as more than a whisper.

The man vanished into the house and suddenly the entire afternoon seemed uneasy without him. Leo adjusted his grip on his gun and reached out a foot to brush one of the dogs’ flank and make sure they were still there.

The sudden crackle of static coming through the walkie talkie sitting beside him startled Leo so badly that he leaped back from his rifle and onto all fours, already ready to run. He took a frustrated breath and donned his glasses, then snatched up the radio. “ **What**?” he snapped into it.

“ **Come down to the old house you’re watching. Someone here to see you** ,” Matvei barked from the other end.

Leo’s stomach twisted and his angry grimace faded to a look of unease. “ **I’m not supposed to leave my post** ,” he argued.

“ **On whose orders would that be?** ” Matvei growled.

“ **Yours...** ” Leo offered, defeated.

“ **Well my orders are changing. Get your ass down here. _Now_** _._ ”

The connection fluttered into static and then into silence again. Leo grumbled a meaningless protest and sat back, jamming the walkie talkie into its holder on his belt. He disassembled his rifle and slid the pieces into their thin bag, then hoisted himself to his feet. The dogs echoed him without question and began to follow as he jumped off his perch and down among the foliage and boulders of the forest floor. He wound his way down the slope following a worn game trail that took him between thick stands of trees and around dangerous drop-offs, and within a few minutes arrived at the base of the mountain.

Uneasiness began to swell in him as he reached the shabby, weed-covered road that led from the camp back towards civilization. He stared down it for a long moment to make sure no cars were approaching and then turned to walk towards the house. Glances over his shoulder were frequent and full of paranoia. Every sound seemed the precursor to the howling of a truck down the road or the insurgence of a group of unfamiliar men from the woods.

Leo’s unease only increased as he emerged from the trees into the cleared area surrounding the old manor house. Without the familiar confinement of trees around him the world had suddenly grown uncomfortably vast. The open air made him clench his jaw and he looked this way and that warily, then took a deep breath and darted across the space between he and the house. He reached its front door and threw it open, panting as he flung himself through it and into the foyer. He turned and slammed the door behind himself, setting a booming echo through the space. The violence of the sound was striking enough to make Leo jump and whip around, though once he did his alarm changed at once to confusion.

The place was empty. What had seemed a fine house on the outside was in reality only a shell. Though a grand staircase swept upwards at the other end of the room towards galleries of rooms on the second floor the floor was made of rough, unfinished wood and the ceiling home to only a few bare bulbs. Wallpaper had clearly been hung once and then left to rot, and strips of it dangled from the warped and discolored walls. What scant furniture there was was covered in dust and pushed off to the sides of the room, leaving the wide foyer bare of all but echoes and spider webs clogged with dust. The longer Leo lingered the more he became glaringly aware of the utter, debilitating emptiness of the space. Something about it seemed larger than it should be, like a room reflected twice over.

As unsettling as it was, something about the house drew Leo. The sheer, gaping void – in all its silence – had a voice. It was a quiet, smooth sound like the whisper of a resting deer, pitched at once below and above Leo’s hearing. He took a step away from the door, looking around as though to find its source. Something flickered out of the corner of his eye, but was gone when he turned.

“ **Hello?** ” he whispered.

Nothing stirred.

“ **Ghosts...?** ” Leo wondered. He walked further into the space, eyes trained upwards to the ceiling. He came to a stop in the center of the room and turned in a full circle to examine it. The coolness of solid walls around him was foreign, but the looming presence of the ceiling turned the house into a curiosity – something like the rumble of cars. A half-developed image from a world Leo had never seen or inhabited.

Another flicker of shade drew Leo’s attention. He followed a vanishing shadow around the back of the staircase with his eyes.

“ **Ghosts** ,” he said again, in affirmation. Zinaida whined at his heel and he bent to pat her shoulder. “ **They won’t harm you. They’re just old light**.”

Curious, Leo straightened and followed the ghost’s path around the back of the stairs. As he drew nearer the room’s voice swelled to become a hissing whine laced with the chill of air from deep beneath the earth.

Leo turned the corner to peer beneath the stairs and found himself facing the entrance to another place. It was a gaping cavern, pitch dark and frighteningly cold, barred off from the empty foyer by thick steel bars drilled into the rock and a gate locked three times over. A set of roughly hewn stairs descended into it, flanked on either side by further steel bars to prevent slipping. Leo removed his glasses and focused on the darkness, peering deep into it. As ever the shadows parted for him, but revealed nothing more than a bend in the staircase a few yards down and an unnatural ooze of darkness. He replaced his glasses and took a step back, drawing close to Zinaida.

“ **There are a lot of ghosts down there, Zinnie...** ” Leo whispered, fearful.

“ **There certainly are**.”

Leo’s stomach plummeted and his blood froze cold with adrenaline. The voice was as soft as a snake’s and just as cutting, and when Leo turned he was wholly unsurprised to find himself looking up at the white-haired stranger he’d seen enter the house from his sniper’s nest.

Leo’s expression must have betrayed something, for the foreigner smiled. “ **There’s no need to be afraid. You’re Leo, aren’t you?** ”

“ **Yes, sir**.” The words emerged automatically, almost without Leo’s consent. He blinked in surprise and lifted a hand to his throat.

The foreigner gave a soft, slippery laugh. He looked Leo up and down. “ **You look like you’ve seen a specter**.”

 _Specter._ Leo nodded, somehow struck mute. “ **Yes, sir** ,” he repeated.

“Well I believe you were sadly mistaken, Leo. There’s nothing to fear here.” He gestured to the tunnel behind the bars. “ **Only ghosts. Nothing worth looking twice at.** ”

Leo nodded dumbly.

“ **Come with me, will you**?” the foreigner asked. He took a step backwards and waved Leo towards him with a graceful hand.

“ **Yes, sir** ,” Leo said once again. He trailed after the white-haired stranger as he turned and glided out from behind the stairs and then up them. Zinaida gave an alarmed growl at Leo’s compliance but for once he waved her off.

Once up the stairs the stranger led Leo along the balcony and into a large office that – like the foyer below – was devoid of all but the most necessary of furniture.

“ **You can stop there** ,” the foreigner instructed as Leo entered. Leo halted but the man himself continued forward and took an elegant seat in a cushioned office chair.

Matvei stood near the shabby desk, arms folded over his chest and his usual grim expression on his face. He gave the foreigner a respectful nod as he sat.

The foreigner looked Leo up and down where he stood. “ **You can come back, Leo. We’re clear of the clutter**.”

It was only as Leo’s senses returned to him in full force that he realized how far gone he’d been. He looked around in confusion at the unfamiliar room and drew a step back towards the door. His knees grew weak and he collapsed onto them, crumpling into a small shape on the floor. He looked down at his legs, betrayed, and then up at the composed stranger. “ **W-What did you...?** ”

“ **Speak when you’re spoken to!** ” Matvei snapped.

Leo jolted in shock but remained on the floor. He gave a hesitant nod.

The stranger clicked his tongue and crossed his legs. He tipped his head first one way and then the other as he considered Leo. The examination was clinical and precise, like a jeweler’s in appraising a diamond. Finally he spoke. “ **What’s the problem with him, Matvei?** ”

“ **He’s been getting out of line recently, sir. Defying orders, talking back to me, acting on impulse and emotion rather than logic** ,” Matvei replied.

The stranger’s eyebrows rose. “ **Emotion? What emotion?** ” He leaned forward in his chair. “ **What do you feel, Leo?** ”

“ **W-When, sir?** ” Leo asked timidly.

“ **When Matvei gives you an order you don’t want to follow.** ”

Leo swallowed. He looked down and clutched at the carpet. “ **Angry, sir...** ”

The stranger drew back a bit. _“ **Angry**_ **? Why?** ”

Leo’s eyes lifted and locked on Matvei. “ **Because the orders I don’t follow are cruel ones. Orders to kill puppies that are born to our dogs, or to kill fawns instead of old reindeer because their meat’s more tender**.”

“ **He has this attachment to animals** ,” Matvei explained. “ **I can’t understand where he got it from**.”

“ **Well it seems to me like that dog thinks of him as her puppy** ,” the stranger said as he gave Zinaida a nod. “ **Did that bitch raise you, Leo?** ”

A twinge of anger passed across Leo’s face. “ **Her name is Zinaida, _sir_** ,” he returned.

The stranger clicked his tongue. “ **My, you are bold. Watch your tongue or I’ll have to cut it out,** ” he murmured.

Though it was a threat not unlike ones he’d heard before the sound of it in the stranger’s smooth, watery voice cowed Leo a bit. He spoke again. “ **Zinaida was two years old when I was first put into service, sir. She’s raised me since then**.”

“ **I see**.” The stranger looked around the room. “ **I hear you’ve killed men in your company. Why did you do that**?”

“ **Other people paid me to** ,” Leo replied.

“ ** _Paid_ you? In what currency?** ” the stranger asked.

“ **Books, mostly. Books or peppermint tea or licorice** ,” Leo said.

The stranger turned to look up at Matvei, eyes cold and aghast. “ **You let him _read?_** ” he hissed.

“ **It kept him quiet, sir,** ” Matvei protested. “ **I...I didn’t know it was against the rule-** “

“ **Well you should have asked** ,” the foreigner snapped. He turned back to Leo and calm stillness settled over his face again. “ **Fine. You’ve killed men for the meager price of a book or a teabag, but you’ve deliberately defied your commanding officer on matters like killing a puppy? Why**?”

“ **I believe animals are better than people, sir**.” Leo said. “ **Animals have compassion**.”

“ _Compassion._ ” The stranger shook his head. “ **That’s not a word you should even kno** w.” He sat back in his chair, pensive.

“ **So you see, sir, it’s urgent. I wouldn’t have called you all the way out here if he weren’t this badly in need of reconditioning** ,” Matvei said delicately.

Leo’s stomach dropped and he sat back. Instinctively he reached for Zinaida, who rubbed against his side and licked at his hair.

“ **Reconditioning...** ” The stranger’s voice trailed off and he tapped his bottom lip with a finger. “ **Perhaps**.” He tipped his head. “ **Or perhaps not**.”

“ **Sir**?” Matvei asked in confusion.

“ **How old are you, Leo?** ” the foreigner asked.

“ **Ten** ,” Leo said.

The stranger nodded thoughtfully. “ **There’s a job I need done. It’ll take time and dedication, and it requires someone of a particular age and with particular interests**.” His mouth bent into a sickening scowl. “ **I had meant to give it to someone in the family, but he committed suicide recently**.” His face cleared of lingering rage and he studied Leo again. “ **But you’ll do**.”

“ **If...If I may...What is the job**?” Leo asked, quiet and timid.

“ **There may come a day when I need to massacre a certain aristocratic family from Austria. Their patriarch’s philanthropic efforts are proving monumentally bad for business**.” The stranger rose. “ **It’ll be easier to wipe them out with someone on the inside. You’ll infiltrate the family via the youngest son, Elliot. He’s just a year or two older than you, and he loves to read**.” He considered Leo. “ **Have you spent any time listening to music**?” Leo shook his head and the stranger waved a hand. “ **We’ll take care of that. What about languages? Do you speak any aside from Serbian?** ” Leo shook his head again. “ **Well those we can feed into your brain. Two or three weeks’ worth of preparation and you’ll be ready**.”

“ **Will I be leaving the mountains, sir**?” Leo asked, uncomprehending.

“ **Of course you’ll be leaving the mountains. You’ll pose as an orphan in one of the Nightrays’ orphanages and convince Elliot to take you on as his personal valet or companion. He’s rumored to be a bastard child, so his father Artur may be the one you’ll have to convince**.” The stranger stopped in his pacing. “ **One more thing...Do you have any cats in your little menagerie?** ”

“ **Yes, sir** ,” Leo said.

“ **Good. They’ll be coming with you** ,” the stranger replied with a curt nod. He smiled coolly. “ **You’re confused** ,” he said.

“ **I’ve...never left the mountains** ,” Leo confessed. “ **I didn’t think I ever would.** ”

The stranger’s smile grew warmer, though a world of threat still lurked behind it. “ **If you do this right you’ll get a chance to see the whole world. Every place you’ve read about in your books times a hundred. Would you like that?** ” he asked smoothly.

“ **Very much...** ” Leo murmured, his voice full of soft longing.

“ **Then you’ll do this for me, right? And you’ll do it well? So well that you’ll get to see fabulous places and do fabulous things and be with a family who loves animals like you do?** ” the stranger coaxed.

Leo shifted onto all fours on the floor and crawled towards the stranger, looking up at him with eager, hopeful desperation. “ **Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes...** ”

The stranger knelt and took Leo’s chin in one hand. He smiled at him again, warm and cutting. “ **Good**.” He stood, turning from Leo back to Matvei briefly. “ **We’ll replace him with another one of our modified soldiers. There’s a girl named Lily who’s just as ferocious.** ” He looked down at Leo again. “ **As for you...we’ve got a lot of work to do**.”

 

* * *

 

_Meeting –_

            _There are some things it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark._

            Leo was sprawled on the floor in a rarely used section of the orphanage’s library, head propped on his hands and one foot tapping a beat in the air behind him. As so much writing still did the clever, poignant line made him hum and smile in appreciation. He turned onto his side and looked up at the shelf of books looming above his head. The sight of them and of the motes of flagrant dust captured in the light streaming through a nearby window only widened his smile. He rolled onto his back and closed one eye, then lifted his hands like a frame to make a picture of the scene. “I could paint that,” he said quietly.

            From below came the sound of small children’s voices and roaring footsteps. Leo sighed at the intrusion on his quietude and turned back on his stomach to continue reading. He ran a finger over the finely printed text, squinting to find where he’d stopped. Reading English was still vaguely unfamiliar and almost unsettling for it, but he continued on regardless, mouthing words to himself when he struggled and stopping to read over particularly moving lines several times before moving on.

            He began to hum to himself after a few minutes, kicking his foot in time with the beat of the unique little melody floating through his head. After a few bars the song grew striking to him and he stood, placing a bookmark at his place in the book and turning to head out of the library, still humming. He ignored a few calls from other children or offered them a wave and a distant smile as he made his way towards the main floor, compelled towards the piano there by the itching melody in his head.

            About halfway down the main stairs he froze. A sound was drafting up from the direction of the common room where the piano was located. At first it seemed dissonant and chaotic and Leo’s mouth twisted into an upset line. He hurried down another set of stairs, already planning a scolding for whatever young child was banging on the precious instrument. However he found himself drawn to a stop once more a bare few seconds later. What had at first seemed dissonant and bizarre was on closer listening a set of notes so quickly and perfectly executed that they blurred together, creating something almost impossibly complex.

            “Who the hell...?” Leo skipped down the last few steps and swung around the balustrade. He hurried down the short hallway and turned into the music room. A boy about his age with ashy blond hair was seated at the piano, hands gliding effortlessly across the keys in the monumentally complex pattern Leo had heard from afar. For a moment Leo stood dumbstruck by the boy’s raw skill and the perfection of his technique. But with his next breath obstinate stubbornness overcame him. He gave a little “humph” and set his shoulders, then marched across the room until he stood just behind the other boy. He slammed his book down on the top of the piano and planted his hands on his hips.

            “What are you _doing?!”_ he demanded.

            The other boy’s surprise manifested in a jump and a rather undignified little sound. His hands flew from the keys and he turned around to look up at Leo. He took him in briefly, assessing him in a heartbeat, and then crossed his own arms and scowled up at him. “What are _you_ doing?! You ruined my streak! I’d played that Hanon 8 times in a row!”

            “Oh boo hoo. How can you possibly even call that a _Hanon?!_ ” Leo fired back. He gestured to the piano. “That wasn’t music! That was just... moving your fingers really fast. I’m glad I stopped you, and I bet the piano is too.”

            The other boy gaped at Leo, uncomprehending. “The _piano?”_ he asked, half amused and half befuddled. “What, are you some kind of musical instrument medium or something?”

            “N-No,” Leo protested, suddenly a little embarrassed. “Just...” He gestured to the piano again in frustration. “Look. Move over.” He sat on the bench, forcing the other boy to scoot to the right to accommodate him. He rested his hands on the keys and took a deep breath, centering himself around the cool feeling beneath his fingers. He looked up at the open book on the key cover, which was home to a complex series of notes in an ascending and descending pattern. He read through the first few bars and then began to play. Unlike the other boy’s technically perfect and mind-numbingly fast rendition of the piece Leo’s was slower and more emotive. In a lesser pianist the reduced pace might have come across as lack of skill, but beneath Leo’s fingers it turned the Hanon from sharp and technical to lilting, almost like a breeze. He played through the short piece once and then let his hands drop. He turned to the other boy, who was still seated a little awkwardly on the corner of the bench. “See?” he asked pointedly.

            “Wow...” the blond boy murmured. “I...I wasn’t expecting you to be that good.”

            His bluntness made Leo flare up and he crossed his arms again. “Of course you didn’t.” He looked the other boy up and down. “You look like a very proud person.”

            The other boy recoiled a bit in genuine surprise, then his brow set in the same firm line as Leo’s. “Well you look like one who needs to learn to control his temper.”

            They considered each other for a long moment, both stubbornly silent. Finally Leo turned his head and situated himself before the piano again to play the simple melody that had occurred to him while reading.

            It was less than a minute before curiosity overwhelmed stubborn pride and the blond boy turned to watch Leo’s hands as he played. “What song is that?” he asked.

            “I don’t know. It doesn’t have a name yet,” Leo replied.

            The blond boy’s eyes widened. “Y-You made this up?” he asked.

            Leo nodded almost absently. “Yeah. I’m reading a good book. It’s inspired by the story,” he answered.

            Elliot glanced at the book atop the piano and then reached for it. “The Two Towers...” he murmured. He looked up at Leo with a new light of happiness in his eyes and a smile on his lips. “This is one of my favorite books!”

            The merriment on the other boy’s previously serious face took Leo slightly aback. He sat back from the keyboard and nodded. “Mine too...I really like Samwise.”

            “Samwise the Brave.” The boy grinned. “Hey, maybe that’s what you could call your composition!”

            “Samwise the Brave...” Leo played a few notes. He nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I like that.”

            “And maybe...” The blond boy set his left hand on the keys and began to play a bouncing progression of chords. “Something like this for the accompaniment?”

            Leo set his hands on the keyboard and began to play the melody in time with the other boy’s playing. He smiled after a few bars and nodded. “This is pretty good...”

            “Is the piano happy with it?” the blond boy asked, his voice elevated out of seriousness by a little teasing lilt.

            Leo lifted his hands from the keys and frowned at him at once. “Stop it! I know you know what I mean. You just did it,” he said.

            “That’s just technique. It’s like the difference between writing in cursive and plain script,” the boy argued.

            Leo shook his head firmly. “No it isn’t. Music is _made_ by dynamics! You had to have been feeling something when you played that.”

            “Sure. Feeling like it was the right accompaniment for your nice melody. That’s it,” he said with a shrug.

            Leo huffed a sigh. “It’s too bad your taste in music isn’t as good as your taste in books.”

            “Well I could say the same about you,” the other boy retorted.

They fell silent again for a few seconds. _I wonder what else he’s read..._ Leo thought as he spared the boy a glance. He was dressed in a suit and tie, a style of dress that clearly placed him among the aristocracy. The regality that occupied his trim shoulders was echoed in the lines of his high cheekbones and blue eyes, and in the very way he carried himself.

A thought struck Leo and he shook his head at once. “Wait...what are you doing here? You don’t look like an orphan,” he said, skeptical.

“What am I-? Are you serious?” the boy asked. “You must not have been here very long...My family owns this place. We visit the homes as often as we can.”

A thrill of adrenaline crept through Leo and took root deep in his gut. “You’re a...a Nightray?” he asked.

The boy nodded. “Artur Nightray’s youngest son. Elliot.”

Leo all but mouthed the name along with him. “Elliot. Elliot Nightray,” he repeated out loud. _My target._

Elliot nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Leo,” Leo replied at once. A smile danced up on his lips. _My target,_ he thought again. _He fell right into my lap._ “Look, I...I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot,” Leo continued. “Can we forget it and start again?”

Elliot smirked. “So you admit I’m right about music, then?” he asked.

Despite a voice in his head screaming _you have to get close to him! You have to make him believe you’re his friend_ again and again Leo’s temper flared once more. “ _No,_ ” he insisted. “No you are _not_ right.”

In the wake of the outburst both of them smiled and then – unable to help himself – Leo let loose a small laugh. He clapped his hands over his mouth at once to stop the sound. But the quick gesture and the horrified expression behind Leo’s perfectly round glasses set Elliot laughing, and in turn Leo laughed again. The exchange of sound was quiet and a little hesitant as both of them tested the waters of what was clearly an unfamiliar expression of joy.

When they had subsided into only occasional bursts of sound Elliot shook his head and wiped a mirthful tear from his eye. “Sorry if that was weird, I...don’t really laugh that hard often,” he admitted.

“Neither do I,” Leo offered at once. “So there’s something else we have in common.” An unsettling ping of emotion in his chest brought him into check. _I’m just getting to know him. I have to. It’s part of my job,_ he reasoned.

Another moment of silence descended to fill the space between them. Elliot looked away to run a finger over the piano’s keys and Leo down at his lap. _Come on, say something. Anything._ “I haven’t read very much yet,” he said. “But I’d like to read more. You look like you’ve read a lot so...do you think you...I mean do you have any recommendations?”

“For books? Absolutely,” Elliot said eagerly.

 _Books...music...what else? Oh, that’s right._ “My cat lives in the library, so if you’re allergic or anything...” Leo’s voice trailed off.

Elliot’s eyes widened again. “You have a cat? I love cats,” he said happily.

Leo breathed another uncertain laugh. “Well uh...she’s pretty friendly. I’m sure she’ll warm right up to you.” He stood and shuffled out from behind the piano. “The library’s this way.”

As Leo turned to lead the way upstairs a moment of panic flooded over him. _Monsieur Renard was wrong; I can’t do this. I don’t know a thing about other people. I can’t make someone into my friend. I don’t have friends, only animals and targets._ He looked over his shoulder to make sure Elliot was following as he mounted the stairs. _Easy. Target, not friend. Target, not friend. Just remember that. You can fake anything as long as you remember. Target, not friend. Target, not friend._

_Target, not friend._

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

Two days passed in relative silence. Leo recovered his strength quickly, aided by medicinal treatment from Oz and words of encouragement from Elliot. Liam’s process was slower and somewhat more grueling, the nature of his wound lending itself to a more intense cycle of pain. Break cared for him dedicatedly and spent every spare breath he had at his bedside, but increasingly found himself drawn away as plans began to take shape and the group’s next steps be decided upon.

For this reason when Liam woke returned to moderate health he found not Break at his bedside but Raven. His eyes – as ever – were bleary and his vision blurred when he first woke, and he reached out a hand impulsively to scuffle for his glasses on the bedside table beside him.

The movement stirred Raven, who’d fallen into a light doze in the chair where he was seated beside Liam’s bed. He bolted into a straightened position at once. “Liam! Are you alright?!” He leaned forward over Liam, eyes flickering worriedly over his face.

“Glasses...” Liam said groggily.

“Oh! Oh, r-right.” Raven scanned the bedside table and fetched them. He unfolded them and set them on Liam’s nose for him. “There. Better?”

Liam blinked in the new clarity and pulled himself up a little more in bed. Though he winced at the ache in his side the biting, stabbing pain of the initial wound had departed. He breathed a sigh of relief at that and turned to look at Raven, a tired smile on his face. “Hey, featherhead...”

The look of returning wellness and peace on Liam’s face trapped Raven’s next breath in his throat. He swallowed and bit his lip but was unable to stop a tear or two sliding down his cheeks. “Liam...” he whispered. His head fell into his hands and his shoulders trembled in relief. “Liam...”

“Raven,” Liam reached up with one hand and bounced one of Raven’s curls. He squeezed his shoulder and pulled himself up a little further. “Is everyone safe?”

Raven nodded. He pulled his face from his hands to look up at Liam. He swallowed, searching desperately for something to say. “...I made a poultice for your burns. It has aloe, coconut oil, and slippery elm in it. It’s helping! They’re already healed enough that you barely need a bandage anymore...You...Do they hurt? Are you in pain?”

The flighty anxiety in Raven’s voice made Liam frown. He dropped his hand and squeezed one of Raven’s, which was resting in a nervous clench on the bed. “Raven...”

Raven’s lip trembled and he hitched a breath. Tears filled his eyes again and he gave a tiny sob. “I’m sorry you were hurt...I’m s-so...so sorry...”

“It’s not your fault,” Liam said with a kind smile. He squeezed Raven’s hand.

“It is!” Raven protested. “If I hadn’t involved you, if I’d just...just handled Charlotte and Lily myself, if...if things had b-been different. If I hadn’t...”

“It’s not your fault, Raven,” Liam repeated. “I was careless so I was shot. That’s on me, not you.”

“But...But the diamond was stolen and now...now there’s this whole other fight and you never even had to be involved in...” Raven gave a little sob as he looked into Liam’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Liam’s grip on Raven’s hand tightened and he pulled on it to draw him closer. Raven ceded to the touch, allowing Liam to hold him against his chest and wrap his arms around him. Once there and with his face safely out of sight Raven allowed himself a heartier sob, and then another. He clung to Liam’s shirt, desperate. “I’ve l-lost everyone...ev-veryone who ever pro-t-tected me. I thought I w-was going to lose you, too...!” He sobbed again and shifted off his chair and onto the bed, burying himself against Liam’s chest. His tears began to fall in earnest, darkening a spot on the blankets over Liam’s heart.

“I’m not going to die,” Liam whispered. He continued to pet Raven’s hair, his hand warm and comforting.

“You _can’t_. I _need_ you,” Raven repeated, almost childish in his earnestness. “You’re m-my gua-ardian angel...”

The words trapped a surprised gasp in Liam’s throat. He looked down at Raven in his arms. “Your...?”

“My guardian angel,” Raven repeated more firmly. “So you _can’t die_.”

Liam nodded mutely.

“N-No more splitting up. Nob-body does a-any-thing without ba-ackup,” Raven said. Conviction rang through in his every syllable though his voice trembled somewhat with weakness.

“No more splitting up,” Liam echoed. His hand traveled up and down Raven’s back in long, rhythmic motions.

“I’m s-scared...” Raven whispered.

“What are you scared of?” Liam returned. He kissed the top of Raven’s head and pulled him closer.

“Of...Of...” He heaved another breath. “You need to ta-alk to B-Break...Things have changed now. There are hi-igher sta-akes. It’s...It’s ab-bout the Baskervilles now...”

“The Baskervilles,” Liam said, voice stony. The word hung in the air and cast an eerie net about the room, hushing even his breathing. Liam shifted in bed. “How long has it been since I was shot?”

“Two days,” Raven said. He sat up to allow Liam more freedom to move.

“And since then what’s everyone been doing?” Liam asked.

Raven ran a hand through his hair. “Mostly just lying low...Break, Oz, and Elliot did a lot of research and planning...”

Liam blinked in surprise. He shook his head and looked up at Raven. “ _Elliot?_ He and Leo are still here?” he asked.

Raven hesitated, almost guilty, and then nodded. “B-But it’s not...they’re not against you or anything anymore! Elliot and Break are getting along great and Leo’s been recovering and it’s all okay, really. _Really_ , Liam. I swear,” he said.

Liam sat up in bed and pulled back the covers to stand. “Leo tried to kill me!” he argued. “Me _and_ Break!”

“I know...but...” Raven scrambled helplessly after Liam as he dragged himself to his feet. “Hey, Liam, wait! Where are you going?”

Liam exited the room and looked both ways down the unfamiliar hall. He caught sight of the top of a set of stairs and whipped that direction to head down them.

“Liam!” Raven called in another protest. He jogged after Liam, stumbling a little in an attempt to keep up.

Liam reached the stairs and skipped down them two at a time. He jolted to a stop on the landing halfway to the living room. The spacious, well-decorated space was hosting a single occupant, who was seated on the couch with his legs crossed and a book in his lap. It was Leo, his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and his fingers tapping a little beat on the top of the book he held. His bites and scratches had faded to lines of thick pink skin and the terror had fled from his face to be replaced by quiet studiousness.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “You...”

Leo looked up from his book. “Me?” He looked over and noticed Liam. His shapely lips bent up in a smile.

“You,” Liam repeated.

“You,” Leo echoed.

Raven made it to the landing just as Liam leaped forward towards Leo and Leo tossed his book aside to throw himself at Liam. They met in the middle, Leo latching onto Liam’s ribs with his strong, wiry legs and Liam grabbing one of Leo’s hands tight in his grip to keep him from using it to hit.

“Oh Jesus...” Raven said with a resigned sigh. He skipped down the rest of the stairs and started across the room towards where Liam and Leo were grappling on the floor. “Leo...” He reached down and grabbed Leo around the middle.

“Raven, no! This motherfucker-“ Leo gave a yelp as Raven tightened his grip and dragged him backwards. One jerk of Raven’s muscular arms was all the force needed to loose Leo entirely, despite a whirlwind of protest and flailing.

Raven set Leo on his feet and gave him a stern loo. “Leo, sto-“

A quick movement from Liam, who’d darted to one knee and lashed out with his foot to trip Leo again, interrupted Raven. He dropped to one knee and caught Liam’s foot against his body, then jerked it to the ground, flipping Liam onto his side.

“Liam!” Raven protested. “Would you just _listen?_ ”

“He tried to kill me!” Liam and Leo protested in perfect unison.

Their eyes locked and they stared at each other in inquisitive, cautious loathing. “You started it!” Leo hissed.

“As I recall I’m not the one who _blew up a building!_ ” Liam fired back.

“Well if you weren’t such a shitty shot maybe it wouldn’t have come to that,” Leo huffed.

Liam looked up at him, incredulous and dumbfounded. “Now you’re pissed I _didn’t_ kill you?! What the hell kind of excu-”

“Stop it!” Raven said again, more loudly this time. He put a hand on Leo’s chest and shoved him back a step. “Both of you just stop.” He heaved an angry breath. “You sound like Oz and Elliot.” He looked down at Leo. “Leo, this is Liam. He’s an-“

“I know who he is,” Leo said, his eyes still locked on Liam.

“Clearly not or you wouldn’t be trying to attack him. Liam saved both Oz and me last year in a Jackrabbit mission that went wrong.” He turned to Liam. “Liam, this is Leo. My best friend.”

Liam blinked, aghast. “I thought I was your best friend!”

Leo burst out laughing. “ _Ha!_ As if. Raven’s got better taste than that,” Leo said smugly. He crossed his arms and snickered at Liam.

“Oh my God...” Raven said tiredly, running a hand over his face. “Fine. This is Leo, _one_ of my best friends.”

Silence fell between the three of them for a long moment.

“...He still said I was his best friend first,” Leo muttered after a few seconds.

Raven’s resolve to be patient cracked as Leo and Liam began to shout at one another again. He struck a match and lit it, then took a long first draw.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Know one what, a total moron?”

“Sorry, could you repeat that? Your garbled mess of an accent makes you hard to understand.”

“ _My_ accent?! You sound like you swallowed rocks!”

Their voices meshed into collective upset. Raven moved to intervene twice, but when he found that neither was listening gave up and leaned against the chair to smoke. “You know what? Fine,” he grumbled. “Fine.”

The noise of their shouting match reached the rest of the house and Break emerged from the kitchen door behind Leo and Liam, a mixing bowl in hand and an apron tied around his waist. He surveyed the scene and laughed. “What the hell?”  
            The sound of Break’s laughter made Liam turn. Easiness fell into his expression at once and he grinned. “Bonnie...”

Leo snorted. “ _Bonnie?_ Man, you Scotsmen are all the same...”

Fire lit up in Liam’s eyes and he turned back to Leo. The shouting resumed at once, marred completely unintelligible by both Leo and Liam’s thick accents.

“Well I see he’s feeling better,” Break said with a shake of his head.

“I’m sorry,” Raven said with another tired sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Liam wouldn’t be himself if he weren’t trying to fight the sun ten minutes after waking up.” Break approached the scene and came to a stop beside Raven. He lifted two fingers to his lips and whistled sharply between them. “Liam!” he barked.

Liam stopped, his mouth still open. He shot Leo a dirty look and then devoted his attention to Break. The expression on Break’s face – amused and slightly disbelieving – made him blush. “He called me a Scotsman...” he defended weakly.

Break laughed again, his head tipping back with it. “Defend that honor, babe,” he said. He handed the mixing bowl to Raven and walked to where Liam was still crouching on the floor, then straddled his hips and dropped into his lap. “But first say hello to me, you ass...” He leaned in and kissed Liam deeply, his arms looping around his neck and his weight pushing them both back onto the floor.

“Oh _gross_ ,” Leo said. He pulled a face and turned dramatically away.

Liam lifted a hand to flip Leo off without breaking he and Break’s embrace.

“You’ll get used to it,” Raven said. He, too, averted his eyes as Break and Liam kissed.

Leo crossed his arms. “I still don’t trust him...” he grumbled.

“Of course you don’t,” Raven grumbled. He stirred absently at the dough in the bowl Break had handed him.

Liam and Break pulled apart, though when Liam sat up he continued to hold Break in his lap. He glared at Leo over Break’s shoulder. “You tried to kill him, too,” he said pointedly. He wrapped his arms tighter around Break and pulled him against his chest in a hug.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Break replied. He kissed Liam’s cheek and pulled back to smile at him.

Liam furrowed his brow. “You’re usually the last to forgive...” he remarked.

Break pulled back out of Liam’s lap and stood again. “The most effective weapon against an enemy is another enemy,” he said with a shrug.

“The _best_ weapon,” Leo corrected. He tipped his head when Break turned to look at him in surprise. “You’re quoting Nietzsche, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Break said, impressed. He took the mixing bowl back from Raven. He looked back down at Liam. “See, he’s not so bad.”

Leo and Liam glared at one another again. Liam broke the stare first and looked around. “Where are Oz and Elliot? I don’t hear them being complete asses to one another right now,” he said.

“Chess,” Break said. “We’ve found that that’s the best way to keep them quiet. It works in spurts of 20 minutes, until one of them wins.”

“Then what?” Liam asked.

Break laughed and nodded to the bowl. “That’s why I’m making cookies,” he said.

The conversation petered off after another quick spurt of laughter. Silence reigned for a few long breaths before Liam pulled himself to his feet. “Raven said we should talk,” he said.

“We should,” Break affirmed. He drew away towards the kitchen without turning. Liam took a breath to straighten and steady his shoulders and then followed him. He closed the door behind them without being asked as they entered the kitchen.

The intimacy of the private space saw Break heave a heavy breath and slump his shoulders a little. He set the bowl on the long granite countertop as Liam took a seat in one of the stools. After a long, careful beat he looked up and met his eyes. “So...what did Raven tell you?”

“That it was about the Baskervilles now,” Liam said. His hand slid out and cupped around one of Break’s. “What have you learned?”

Break fell silent again. He turned from Liam and looked off into space. His eyes grew somehow darker. Not more sinister for it, but more unsettled. “We were looking for connections in the wrong places. We thought they were connected to Zai through weapons dealing on the black market.” He looked down. “But it wasn’t that. It was...It was human trafficking, Liam.” He dropped his voice until it was barely a whisper. “I think they’re the group responsible for kidnapping Raven and selling him to Zai.”

Horror settled over Liam. In one grisly, choking moment the air seemed to vanish entirely from the room. He lifted his free hand to cover his mouth and then ran it backwards over his forehead and through his hair. He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Fuck...” he whispered. “Did you...Have you told him...?”

“No way in hell,” Break replied at once. “We got lucky in Monte Carlo when Raven killed Zai. If you and Oz hadn’t been in danger I don’t think he would have had the resolve to do it. He’s afraid enough as it is. The chances of him being able to fight if he knows he’s going up against the people who ruined him are slim at best.”

Liam took a deep breath. “But...is it right not to tell him...?”

“It’s smart,” Break countered. He looked down at his hand and Liam’s intertwined on the counter. “...We have to make them pay, Liam. The Baskervilles.”

Liam squeezed Break’s fingers. “We do...” he agreed. Solemnity and unspoken resolve settled over them both. “So, where does it begin?”

“Lily and Charlotte. They’re both involved according to Raven.” He bit his lip but was unable to suppress a smile. “And according to your new best friend Leo...”

“Hey!” Liam smacked the back of Break’s hand and flicked him in the forehead with a finger. He leaned in to kiss the spot at once and sat back with a resigned smile on his face. “So I take it pursuing Hunter is off the table for now?”

Break nodded. He raised an eyebrow at the skeptical look on Liam’s face. “Need I remind you that _Jackrabbit_ is sitting upstairs playing chess right now?”

Liam sighed and clicked his tongue. “Xerxes Break, you’ve absolutely wrecked my track record for well-executed missions...” He smiled and leaned over to rest his forehead against Break’s. “Do you ever feel like a dick for blowing my cover?”

“Yes...” Break admitted. He tipped his face down and kissed Liam. “But I have yet to regret it.”

Liam’s hand rose from the table and settled on the back of Break’s neck. “I need you to promise me you’ll stay safe,” he whispered.

Break pulled back and studied Liam. “You know that’s a promise I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep.”

“Then promise to try?” Liam asked.

“Only if you do too,” he echoed. “Since we met I’ve seen you shot three times.”

“I’ll try, bonnie.” Liam kissed Break again and then retracted his hand from his neck.

Break stepped away to return to his cooking. Without physical proximity to link them their talk turned from sweet to business-like at once.

“So...is your plan total shit?” Liam asked, nonchalant.

“Asshole!” Break said with a laugh. He shook his head. “It’s not total shit. If things go right it shouldn’t even be that dangerous.”

“As I recall last time you said that we ended up fleeing the police in Singapore,” Liam said.

Break laughed again. “Well we weren’t _caught_ by the police in Singapore. And this plan’s more solid than that one. This time we’re planning with Elliot on our side,” he said.

“He’s that smart?” Liam asked.

“Absurdly smart,” Break said.

“Could have fooled me. He and Oz were acting like complete idiots at the party where I was shot,” Liam grumbled.

Break giggled. “Yeah, that seems to be a theme.” He finished his dough and began spooning it onto a prepared cookie sheet. “But what he came up with is pretty intelligent, and hopefully it’ll give us a gateway into deeper parts of the organization than just Charlotte. It centers on something he and Oz both affirmed, which is that Charlotte likes nothing more than gloating. She stole the diamond that Elliot was after and she’ll want to wave that in his face.” He turned and slid the tray into the oven. “So the plan is to attract her attention. Elliot’s family name makes him a celebrity among the rich and famous, so getting Charlotte’s attention will be as simple as walking out the door.”

Liam leaned his cheek on his hand. “And once we have it?” he asked skeptically.

“That’s where Oz comes in. He has some tech wizardry nano microcomputer robot camera bullshit or something that we can bug her with. They’re what he uses to monitor all his ring bosses and other employees when he’s running the Jackrabbit business,” Break explained.

Liam shook his head in disbelief. “A _bug?_ I thought you said this _wasn’t_ a shitty plan. If she’s as cunning and nasty as you all believe she is she’ll see through it, guaranteed.”

Break shook his head. “Oz is going to install the bug inside a piece of jewelry Leo’s going to be wearing when we put on our Sunday best and head out to a party being held at the Gran Hotel Provincial tonight. Charlotte will-“

“ _Tonight?_ ” Liam interrupted. “Why tonight? I’m barely back on my feet and we haven’t had time to-“

Break cut him off. “We don’t need it. This isn’t a strike. It’s an attempt to gauge what we’re dealing with. Plus, this party’s special. It’s being hosted by some nouveau riche multi-billionaire with a soft spot for high stakes gambling.” Break smiled as Liam’s eyebrows lifted in immediate interest. “The plan is to have Leo challenge Charlotte to a game of poker and-“

“-bet the piece of jewelry. Leo loses, Charlotte takes it,” Liam finished.

“Exactly. And in her pride wears it for the rest of the evening, including back to wherever she’s staying. If we wait long enough she’ll make some sort of contact with someone else involved with the Baskervilles. She’s clearly not working alone. That man who shot you was an associate, Lily’s one too...there are probably more of them lurking around. And even if she doesn’t contact another Baskerville watching her in private will be an excellent way to gauge what kind of bodyguards she has looking after her.”

Liam shifted in his chair. “If we’re looking for bodyguards and her location does that make her death the end goal?”

Break’s voice dropped. “We don’t know that yet. It depends on what we learn from watching her. Elliot and I think the Baskervilles are structured similarly to a mob family, and if that’s true killing one member leads you to war with the rest. We don’t want that if it’s not something we can handle,” he said.

Liam nodded. “Truly. If this group is powerful and influential enough to have gone unreported and unseen as a human trafficking organization then we need to be careful.” Liam looked up to find Break already watching him. Their eyes connected and camaraderie and understanding passed between them. “But if they really are the ones who took Raven...”

“Then we burn them to the ground.” Break’s eyes filled with light as he said it. The odd look flickered away and he returned to the menial task of washing the bowl he’d used to make the dough.

“We burn them to the ground,” Liam echoed. “But that’s for later. We need to focus on tonight for now.”

“We do.” Break crossed to Liam again. He leaned against the counter and gave Liam a sultry smile. “I hope you’ve been keeping up your form...Our whole plan hinges on throwing a poker game.” His hand slipped out and trailed up Liam’s neck to his jaw. “We’ll need a skilled dealer on our side for something like that...Are you up for it?”

Liam turned his face and kissed Break’s wrist. “You’re not going to force me into a dress again?” he teased.

Break laughed. “You’ve made it _very_ clear that that was a one-time thing. Besides, it’s been awhile since I kicked your ass at poker.”

Liam clicked his tongue. “Is that a challenge?” he asked.

Break leaned forward and kissed him deeply, then pulled back to look him in the eye. “You bet your ass it is.”

 

* * *

 

            Elliot and Oz stood facing one another on the garage beneath the safe house, glaring at each other over the hood of Elliot’s Aston Martin. Oz’s shoulders were set and Elliot’s arms crossed stubbornly over his chest as they considered one another.

            “You are absolutely _not_ riding shotgun. I’ve had to spend the last two days in the same house as you and that’s more than enough of your presence for the rest of my life,” Elliot said firmly.

            “Don’t you have, like, the shittiest sense of direction of anyone on earth? If you drive without a navigator in the front seat we’ll just end up at the nearest piano shop or cat shelter. Isn’t that where your tiny pea brain is magnetically drawn?” Oz retorted.

            Elliot scoffed. “Oh and I suppose _you_ know where you’re going?”

“I could not own this city more if I tried,” Oz said.

Elliot snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh that’s right, Oz Vessalius, the Very Bad Bunny, terror of drug cartels the world over.”

“Th-The-!” Oz reeled back in shock. “What did you just call me?!”

“The Very Bad Bunny. Hop, hop, hop.” Elliot snickered.

Liam descended the stairs from the main house just as Oz was opening his mouth to make a biting retort. He whistled sharply to silence the two of them and crossed to stand between them. “Enough of this shitty argument or I swear you’re _both_ riding in the trunk,” he said.

“Oh I’d like to see you even _try_ to lay a hand on Elliot,” Leo yelled from across the garage as he descended the stairs.

Liam whipped around to face him. “I’d like to see you try to stop me!” he shouted back.

Break and Raven descended the stairs and found themselves in the midst of Elliot and Oz’s renewed shouting match and the one blossoming between Liam and Leo. Raven sighed. “What the hell do I have to do to get some peace and quiet...?” he mumbled.

“Put them all in the trunk?” Break suggested.

Raven laughed. “Then we could place bets on who’d be left alive when we got to the hotel.”

Break cleared his throat and raised his voice as he approached the car. “Al _right_ gentlemen. That’s quite enough of that.” He neared Oz and spun him around to face the back of the car. “Oz, sit next to your dearly beloved. And no, I don’t mean Elliot.” A protest roared up from Oz and Elliot but Break ignored it in favor of opening the driver’s side back door of the car and sliding inside. “We’re one seat short, so Leo’s riding in Raven’s lap!” he said.

Elliot leaned into the back seat to look at Break. “Who put you in charge?”

“Raven’s tired of your shit and Liam’s honor bound to defend me. I have the big, scary people on my side,” Break called back to him.

Liam slid into the passenger seat. He gave Elliot a flat look as he opened his mouth to argue. “I swear to God just get in the car,” he said.

Elliot’s mouth closed at once and he slid into the driver’s seat without another word. The rest of the group followed suit and after their doors were shut, their seatbelts fastened, and their disagreements put aside for the time being they left the safe house behind and emerged into the tangled web of streets surrounding it. Conversation picked up at once in the back seat but Liam and Elliot both remained quiet, focused on navigating their way back towards a main thoroughfare. After a few minutes they found one and turned onto it, joining a throng of cars ranging in appearance from beaten up pickup trucks to Ferraris and Porsches that threatened to outclass even Elliot’s.

“Liam, we’ll drop you first,” Elliot said.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to make it through security?” Oz asked. “Aren’t these hotels usually pretty strict about who they hire?”

“I spent four years dealing at one of the highest stakes tables in the world. If they try to call me on anything I’ll have the skills to back up who I’m claiming to be.” He turned around to glare at Leo. “Do you know how to play poker?”

“Isn’t the point for me to _lose_ at poker?” Leo quipped back.

Liam smiled smugly. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Break spoke up as Leo bristled and opened his mouth for a retort. “I’ll be with him, so I’ll be able to help.” He grinned. “You certainly know _I_ know how to play...”

“You’ll _never_ convince me you weren’t cheating in Monte Carlo,” Liam said before turning back around to face forwards. “I’ll canvas the hotel as best I can while I’m there. If something goes wrong we may need to get out fast.”

“Be safe, okay?” Raven fretted.

Liam smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “Promise,” he said.

When they were a few blocks from the massive resort that would host the evening’s festivities Elliot pulled over into a parking lot along a wide, upscale street to let Liam out. Designer stores flanked them on both sides, boasting flashy evening gowns and trim suits along with gemstone-crusted necklaces and ornate shoes. Leo scanned them with an expert eye as the car slowed, and the second it came to a stop he shifted in Raven’s lap and unbuckled the seatbelt clumsily and awkwardly strapping both of them in. Then he clambered off of Raven and pushed Break towards his door. “Out,” he commanded.

“What?” Break said in surprise.

Leo arched an eyebrow. “You need to look good at this party. And before you argue with me no, whatever you brought is _not_ good enough,” he said. He looked Liam up and down as the two of them stepped out onto the street. “Including your partner.”

“God I would _love_ to punch you in the face,” Liam said sincerely, his fists balling as he looked down at Leo.

Leo gave a little humph and tossed his hair. “You’re tacky and I hate you.” He turned on his heel and began marching towards a nearby store without waiting to see if Break was following. “Come on!” he called to him.

Elliot leaned out the car window to call after Leo. “Hey, should I wait for you or...?”

“We’ll be ten minutes,” Leo called from a little down the block.

Break looked after Leo then back up at Liam. He laughed at the expression on his face. “I haven’t seen you this fired up in ages,” he said. “The last time you had that look on your face was when we were in the lobby at the Casino Royale, right before you dragged me back to your room...You’re not in _love_ with Leo, are you?” he asked, jokingly aghast.

“Xerxes Break, I love you to death, but say that again and I _will_ assure you never eat chocolate soufflé again,” Liam said.

Break laughed and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him. “I love you. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I love you too,” Liam replied. He kissed Break again and then released him. They turned from one another and walked off down the street in opposite directions.

Elliot fastened his seatbelt again. “I’ll drop you two off now,” he said to Oz and Raven.

“Didn’t Leo say he’d only be ten minutes?” Oz asked.

“Ten _Leo_ minutes,” Elliot said with a shake of his head. “That means an hour.” He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot.

They drove in silence while Elliot wove his way between the other cars on the city’s largest streets. The grand façade of the Four Seasons where Oz and Raven were staying rose up on their right after a few cluttered, heavily trafficked minutes and Elliot began to slow.

Oz sat up straighter as the hotel came into view. “The two of us will plan on meeting up with the rest of you before the party, so I can give Leo his jewelry,” he said.

“Fine. But if you show up wearing anything stupid you’re not coming in. White tie attire is required at this one.” Elliot looked up at Oz in the rearview mirror. “Do you even know what that means?”

Oz rolled his eyes. “Don’t condescend to me, Smelliot. Black tailcoat and pants, white bow tie, boring everything, blah, blah, blah.”

Raven raised an eyebrow and returned Elliot’s nervous glance in the mirror. “Don’t worry, _I_ know what it means.”

Elliot sighed in relief. “Oz, you will _never_ deserve him.”

Raven rubbed at the back of his neck, doing his best to hide a smile and a blush as Oz looked over at him but failing almost entirely.

Elliot pulled into the valet area outside Oz and Raven’s hotel and stopped his car. He turned in his seat to glare at Oz. “Out, before someone sees me driving you somewhere.”

Oz snickered. “You do look like my chauffeur, don’t you?” he said.

Elliot bristled at once. “ _Out!”_ he insisted more firmly.

Raven laughed and pulled open his own door. “We’ll see you later.”

Oz followed Raven’s lead and stepped out of the car, though he spared a moment to look back at Elliot and give him an overly enthusiastic wave. “Bye, Elliot!” he called loudly enough that everyone in the vicinity was sure to hear him.

Elliot blushed furiously. “Oh I swear to _God_...” As soon as Oz and Raven were clear he lowered his foot onto the gas and sped out of the valet area at a truly reckless speed. Patrons on the street jumped in surprise as his car motored by and other drivers honked their horns as he darted between them. He ignored them all in favor of focusing on the road in front of him, lasering in on hazards and searching almost effortlessly for ways to avoid them. The need for wholehearted focus to accommodate his bold driving was a welcome distraction from the clamor of his thoughts, which had been tumultuous at best after the discovery of the brand on the back of Leo’s neck that marked him as a Baskerville affiliate. The brief mental aside was enough to make Elliot’s stomach lurch. _Break’s the kind of smart that he could figure that out...Almost unsettlingly smart. If he did figure it out..._ He dismissed the half-finished thought with a shake of his head.

He arrived at the shop-lined street again and whipped into his former parking spot. Leo and Break were still predictably absent and Elliot settled in to wait. He flipped on the radio to his favorite classical station and relaxed back in his seat with a hefty sigh. People on the street drew his attention in fits and spurts as they passed by the car, his eye caught by their clothes or posture and then deflected as they strode out of view. One woman in a particularly bright patterned dress snatched Elliot’s focus and held it as she walked into a jewelry shop about halfway down the block. His eye lingered on a sparkling piece nested on a velvet cushion in the window as the lady vanished. Almost without realizing what he was doing Elliot shut off the car and stepped out into the day. He walked directly to the jewelry store, spoke briefly with the consultant, purchased the piece in the window, and returned to the car all in a span of under five minutes. Once back in the familiar space he sat considering the neatly wrapped jewelry box in his lap, his face tense. _It’d be weird to just hand Leo a piece of jewelry...but I’ve bought him things before, he’d know it didn’t mean anything...I mean, it’s not like **that** or anything. Just a gift from one friend to another, right? Right. Of course it is. _ He looked up at himself in the mirror.

“Talking to yourself again,” he said with a shake of his head.

The car door opened suddenly, taking Elliot by such surprise that he gave a fearful shriek and jumped.

Leo’s familiar laugh washed over Elliot like a wave and he stuck the jewelry box beneath his seat before Leo could see it. “Leo, don’t scare me like that!” he protested as Leo took a seat next to him.

“Everything scares you,” Leo said as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Elliot turned in his seat as Break slid into the backseat. His eyebrows rose in surprise as Break laid a long, zippered garment bag beside him. “Is that a-?”

“You bet it is,” Leo said with a victorious smile.

Break laughed. “I had absolutely no say in the matter. Something tells me this might have more to do with wanting to make Liam squirm than what looks good on me, though. That seems to be a strategy Leo himself uses well...”

Elliot’s cheeks lit up with a blush and he nearly choked on his next breath. Leo clamped his mouth shut and turned to look out the window.

The reaction made Break’s eyebrows lift and he bit his tongue to keep from smiling. “Uh oh...looks like I’ve said something I shouldn’t have,” he teased lightly.

Elliot barked a squeaky laugh. “What?! What do you mean? It’s not like-“

Leo picked up right where Elliot’s voice teetered into silence. “-Yeah! Of course, I mean, it’s not like I dress how I do for _Elliot_. That’d be...”

“...just ridiculous...” Elliot finished with another little breath of a laugh.

Break looked between them from the backseat. “I see,” he said with a dubious, lighthearted smile. He crossed his legs as Elliot began to back the car out of the parking spot and looked between them. “So, have you two always been close?”

The mild ping of an alarm bell went off in Elliot’s head. He spared Break a glance in the mirror and tried to read the intention on his face. _Is this an interrogation?_ _Is he trying to pull us apart?_

Leo snorted and gave Elliot a look. “Elliot had to talk me into being his friend after we met for the first time. He was a big asshole.”

Elliot rolled his eyes. “For the billionth time, Leo, you were playing the piano wrong,” he said.

            “ _You_ were playing the piano wrong,” Leo retorted.

            Break laughed at the obviously familiar exchange. “The first time Liam and I met he threatened to strangle me and things have worked out fine for us. I’m sure you two can get there,” he said.

            “G-Get where?” Elliot asked at once. “You and Liam are...”

            Leo latched onto the opportunity to change the topic and turned to look at Break. “How can you _possibly_ be in love with Liam? He’s the worst.”

            “In all fairness you’ve known him for about a day now,” Break said with a wave of his hand. “He’ll grow on you.”

            Leo grimaced. “Like what, mold?”

            Break laughed. “Like a very good, very honorable, very protective Irish mold, yes,” he said.

            Leo watched Break in silence and then turned around again to face forwards. “Did you two really save Oz and Raven’s lives?” he asked.

            Break nodded gravely. “The situation was complicated. All four of us worked together. But yes, Liam and I saved Oz’s and Raven’s lives.”

            “Was Oz...really responsible for ordering the hit on Zai?” Elliot asked. “I’d heard that but...”

            “I’m the one he ordered to do it. Good riddance, honestly. Zai was a monster. His connection with the Baskervilles should prove that,” Break said.

            Elliot glanced briefly at Leo at the mention of the Baskervilles, though he kept the look subtle.

            Leo’s face remained unchanged by the mention of the group. “I knew he and Oz didn’t get along. I mean that’s pretty much common knowledge. But I didn’t think it was _that_ serious,” he said.

            “For all that Oz is stubborn, ostentatious, temperamental, and snide he does have a heart. I’m pretty sure he found out about his father’s black market connections to human trafficking before he contracted me,” Break replied.

            Elliot frowned. “He seemed just as surprised as you and I when we finally pieced together who the Baskervilles were,” he said.

            Break shrugged and turned to look out the window. “He’s ashamed of where he comes from. Emotion like that can lead a person to do all sorts of questionable things.”

            Something in Break’s tone and inflection rang as deep and visceral. Elliot and Leo exchanged a subtle look before Elliot’s eyes returned to the road. “How long were you with MI6 before the incident in Monte Carlo?” Elliot asked.

            At the passing, casual reference to the past Break’s face folded closed like a paper fan. The flicker of indistinct emotion that had risen up there hushed away between the cedar slats of a perfect porcelain mask of disconnect. “I’ve been with MI6 since I was 18 and when I sailed to Monte Carlo with Oz I was 24,” he said coolly.

            “And your missions before Monte Carlo? Anything of consequence?” Leo asked.

            Break gave him a flickering smile in the mirror. “I’m sorry, that’s classified. I may no longer be part of MI6, but I’m still honor bound to keep its secrets.”

            His tone was one of utter dismissal and Leo pushed the line of questioning no further. “What about Liam? He was the top ranked agent there, wasn’t he?”

            “Yeah, he was. But he’s been serving a lot longer. He was actually raised by the commander of MI6, who trained him alongside her daughter. He’s been an active agent since the time he was about fifteen,” Break said.

            Elliot blinked in surprise. “Is that...legal?” he asked incredulously.

            Break shrugged. “Probably not. If the stories I heard while I worked there were anything to go by I don’t think it really mattered to Liam, though. They were trying to keep him _out_ of active duty, not forcing him _into_ it.”

            Leo turned over his shoulder. “And what were _his_ missions before he went undercover in Monte Carlo?” he asked.

            Break’s lips turned up in a smile. “Now that’s even _more_ classified. Even I don’t know most of what he did.”

            They arrived at Elliot and Leo’s hotel and Break leaned over to look up and out the window. The building’s marble façade sparkled and the gold trim in every window frame winked in the midday light. The foliage and fountains scattered around the hotel’s main entrance were all implacable, like an oil painting rather than life. Break gave a whistle. “I will never get over seeing how those with a truly absurd amount of money live their lives,” he said.

            Elliot parked his car between two equally gorgeous ones and stepped outside. He looked up at the building and then down at Break. “Is it really that outlandish?” he asked.

            Break laughed as he stepped out beside Elliot. “You have absolutely no context, do you?”

            “None,” Leo affirmed as he walked by the two of them. “Come on, Break, we have a lot of work to do.”

            Break followed after Leo immediately but Elliot remained in place. He hesitated and then unlocked the car again and fetched the jewelry box from under his seat. He licked his lips as he considered it in his hands again. Self-conscious doubts sprung up to try and overwhelm his composure but he forced it away and removed his suit jacket. He tucked the box between two of the folds to hide it and draped the jacket over his elbow. _Leo has a nose for diamonds like a goddamn bloodhound. We’ll see if that even makes a difference._

He caught up to Leo and Break at the elevator bay and the three of them rode up to their floor. Leo was chatting excitedly to Break, who looked perplexed and a little afraid rather than intrigued or excited. Elliot glanced at the garment bag draped over Break’s arm. He caught a hint of sleek silver and resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows. _I bet that’s one hell of a gown..._

The second the elevator doors opened Leo herded Break down the hallway to the nearby door of he and Elliot’s high-end suite. Elliot pulled out his wallet as he approached and took the key out of it.

            “He can’t be tamed, I assume?” Break asked Elliot as he approached. He gave a suggestive look towards Leo, who was still chattering away about hairstyles and the formalities of white tie attire.

            “Not a chance,” Elliot said fondly. He unlocked the door and admitted the three of them to the suite’s sitting room area.

            Leo snatched the garment bag from Break the second they entered the room and carried it directly to the closet. He opened the door and hung it on a hook on the back of the door to keep it from wrinkling. He whipped around to face Break, who was still looking around in awe at the utter finery of the gold and satin-encrusted hotel room. “Break! No time to waste.” He walked across the room and took Break’s wrist then turned and marched towards the bathroom.

            Elliot bit back a laugh as he watched them go, his heart stirring at Leo’s familiar antics. He deserted his jacket on the fine sofa in the sitting area and took a seat at the small upright piano he’d specifically instructed be placed in the room for his use while at the hotel. He lifted one hand and began to absently play a melody.

            The bathroom door opened again and Leo emerged. “Don’t forget to shave your legs!” he called to Break. Break said something back and Leo stuck his head into the room again. “Yes all the way up, that slit goes _well_ above your knee.” He closed the door firmly before Break could ask him any more questions and turned to face the room. Finding Elliot at the piano he crossed to a nearby armchair and perched in it.

            “Leo...” Elliot traced Leo’s face with his eyes, lingering on his large, familiarly violet eyes and delicate mouth.

            Leo’s lips flickered up in a smile. “Elliot,” he replied.

            A beat of silence fell between them. It was weighted down with the wordless communication they’d grown accustomed to and practiced at after years of living and working at one another’s sides.

            “Are you scared?” Leo asked in a whisper.

            Elliot nodded. “I’m scared of what this could become. It feels like...like we’re hovering on the edge of war, but not against an enemy we can see or know.”

            Leo looked down at his hands. “And everyone’s keeping secrets. Oz knew more about the Baskervilles than he was willing to say at first, Raven’s scared out of his mind about something, Liam must have one hell of a past with MI6 for even his partner to not know what he used to do...” His voice trailed off.

            “And Break...?” Elliot asked.

            Leo looked up. “He knows something. More than he’s saying, I’m _sure_. But what that something is I...I’m not sure we’ll ever know.”

            “He closed up the second I asked about old missions. Maybe he did something wrong a long time ago,” Elliot suggested.

            “Maybe,” Leo said. He paused. “Do you trust him?”

            Elliot hesitated but nodded. “Yes. It’s strange I...I don’t necessarily trust him to be a good man, but I trust him not to betray us. Does that make sense?”

            “No,” Leo said with a little laugh. “But I understand.” He pushed his hair behind his ear as Elliot studied him again. “What?”

            “Do you trust me?” Elliot asked.

            “Of course I do,” Leo said instantly.

            Elliot licked his lips. His brow furrowed and his hand fell from the piano into his lap. “I...” _Leo Baskerville..._ His stomach lurched. “I trust you, too.”

            Leo nodded. A hint of desperation slipped into it and he heaved a deep breath. “We’ll always have each other, right? No matter what else happens? No matter who else we can and can’t trust?”

            “Yeah,” Elliot breathed. He shifted on the piano bench and then stood and walked to the sofa. He unfolded his jacket from around the jewelry box and took it in hand. “Hey will you c-come here...? I have something for you,” he managed.

            Leo gave him a surprised smile. “Seriously?” He rose and crossed the living room to the couch, where he took a seat beside Elliot. “What is it?”

            Elliot felt himself already beginning to blush as he turned towards Leo on the couch. _Keep it together...keep it together...You are Elliot Goddamn Nightray, keep it together..._ “When I was waiting for you and Break I saw this in a jewelry store. I thought...”

            He flipped open the box, revealing a radiant hair clip nested inside. It was made up primarily of orange and yellow sapphires set, cut, and arranged in the pattern of a small spread of bright flowers. Diamonds and rubies winked between them, adding life to the filigree setting and the carefully crafted gold leaves between the blooms. It was crescent-shaped, made to nest behind the wearer’s ear and taper delicately off into their hair. Without even lifting it from the box it was apparent that in Leo’s black locks the clip would be nothing short of utterly radiant.

            “Oh Elliot...” Leo said in wonder. He smiled. “Are these...?”

            “Marigolds,” Elliot affirmed. “Your favorite, right?”

            “Yeah...” Leo breathed, his eyes still locked on the clip. He picked it up and lifted it to examine how it winked and twinkled in the light.

            “It’s going to look beautiful on you.” Elliot’s voice all but rang of sincerity and deep love.

            Leo’s heart skipped a beat. He looked up at Elliot and extended the hairpiece. “Will you...?”

            Elliot took the clip in hand, twisted the right-hand side of Leo’s hair gently and artfully away from his face, and slipped the clip behind his ear. As predicted the gems radiated like supernovae against the crisp black of Leo’s hair. “Wow...” Elliot whispered.

            His hand dropped from Leo’s hair to cradle his neck instead. Their eyes met in a long, meaningful gaze. For the first time in years Elliot’s constant, anxious internal monologue was quiet. The moment had distilled entirely into the look on Leo’s face, the soft thanks and tender half-hope.

            Elliot only realized he’d leaned forward when his face was a centimeter from Leo’s, and by then not a scrap of hesitation remained in him. His stomach flipped and a jolt of warmth shot up in his blood as he closed that last, aching distance and kissed Leo. They both hovered in it, the momentum that had driven them here deserted in favor of stillness in the face of this simple, long-awaited contact. Elliot shifted a little closer and Leo’s head tipped back. One of Leo’s hands slipped out and landed on Elliot’s leg just above his knee. In response Elliot’s breathing quickened and he gripped more tightly at the back of Leo’s neck.

            Leo’s head tipped and his lips parted, and Elliot instinctively reciprocated. His free hand dropped and found Leo’s waist and he pulled him closer, almost flush against him. Leo gave a desperate little half-moan into Elliot’s mouth and ceded to his touch, allowing himself to be pulled close against him. Their mutual passion swelled and their kiss grew quicker, more eager. Leo’s tongue slipped into Elliot’s mouth and Elliot’s hand sank lower to fall against Leo’s lower back. Leo shifted onto his knees and then further forward until he was situated in Elliot’s lap, his legs on either side of his hips. Elliot’s arms tightened further around Leo’s waist and Leo’s hands found their way into Elliot’s hair. They kissed long and hard there, fevered breaths mixing with desirous sounds as their mouths opened and closed against one another’s and their hands wantonly perused one another’s backs and sides.

            The minute of intense passion and heat collapsed in on itself al at once, without warning or indication. They pulled out of the kiss and Leo sat back out of Elliot’s lap to face him on the couch again. Both of their faces betrayed utter shock and self-consciousness as they stared at one another.

            Elliot was the first to break the silence. He gave a nervous laugh and lifted his hands to begin straightening his hair. “Wow, uh, _that_ sure was weird...”

            Leo took the cue and turned away to readjust his glasses. “Yeah, I mean, _seriously_. Like...” He glanced at Elliot and then away again, his cheeks fiery with a blush. “ _Wha-at...?_ ” He laughed helplessly, the sound teetering into non-committal silence.

            Elliot cleared his throat and wiped his mouth. “S-So anyway, I thought that clip might go...with...something.” He let his eyes fall closed. _Fucking idiot._

            “Neat!” Leo said. He looked away, his eyes widening. _Neat?! What the fuck do you mean ‘neat’?!_ he screamed mentally.

            “ _Wow_ , I mean that...that was just _weird,_ ” Elliot said again with a shake of his head.

            Leo looked over at him. “Y-Yeah... _So_ weird...I don’t know what came over me, I just...” Elliot looked up at Leo and he trailed off into silence again. Another heady sweep of a moment passed over them and Leo took a shaky breath. “Your eyes are the exact color of the Mediterranean Sea and I...I mean, you know how I love the ocean,” he finished weakly, with another helpless laugh. He looked away.

            Elliot shifted closer on the couch. “Leo?” he murmured.

            Leo’s stomach jolted and he turned to look at Elliot again. “Elliot?”

            Leo let out a long, heady breath as Elliot closed the space between them again. They kissed hard and passionately, more assured in their holds on one another now that the fear of newness was gone. Leo wrapped his arms around Elliot’s neck and fell backwards onto the couch, tugging Elliot down with him. He hummed in satisfaction at the weight of Elliot’s chest atop his.

            One of Elliot’s hands lifted from Leo’s hip and grappled blindly along the back of his own neck. He took one of Leo’s hands and intertwined their fingers, then dropped their hands onto the sofa above their heads. One of Leo’s legs hooked up around Elliot’s and they let out twin sighs at the new contact between their hips.

            Elliot pulled back and looked down at Leo. The flush on his face and new depth in his eyes made Elliot’s stomach jolt and he bit his lip.

            Leo smiled up at him. “Uh oh...don’t stop kissing me or it’ll get weird again.”

            They hovered for a moment and then both gave into a bud of new energy and began to laugh. They drew together again to kiss, but the mirth overwhelmed them again and instead they laughed against one another’s lips. A surge of warmth and affection overcame Elliot and he rubbed his nose against Leo’s in a brief pause between their laughter-filled kisses. He pulled away enough to smile at Leo once more and then kissed him again with a heady sigh. Leo’s laughter bubbled against his lips and he pulled him tighter, overwhelmed with a feeling of deep love. _Fuck this Leo Baskerville bullshit..._ He laughed again as Leo pulled away and smiled at him. Their eyes met and they smiled at one another before leaning in to kiss again. _This is Leo Nightray._

 

* * *

  

            The Gran Hotel Provincial glowed in the night against the backdrop of a storm gathering over the ocean at its back. Its facades painted a portrait of modernity married with ancient grace and its lush grounds and gardens a sprawling green landscape illuminated by multitudes of hanging lights and standing torches. They hung from the building like lavish jewelry or a sprinkling of stars, decorating the night surrounding it with lucid pockets of light in which glimpses of a mystic, elegant populous could be caught. Women in evening gowns with white gloves skirting up their arms passed through those garden lights like comets and the men accompanying them like crescent moons.

            Though the gardens were beautiful their gravity was dwarfed by the hotel’s main plaza, which beckoned with sparkling champagne, cheery music, and illustrious extravagance. The main ballroom played host to a small chamber orchestra, dozens of dancing couples, and groups of gossiping people marveling at the politics of who was dancing with whom. Doors from there opened into a fabulous gallery lined with tables of gourmet food and a veritable cavalcade of servers carrying trays of aperitifs. The hotel’s upscale restaurant had been fully booked for the evening and guests dining there sparkled with the knowledge of their privileged position and basked in the jealousy of their fellow partygoers.

            Though the orchestra was merry, the food extravagant, and the building dripping with wealth and allure the crowning jewel in the evening’s majestic garland was the party’s casino. The hotel’s normally functional casino had been transformed and elevated for the evening to accommodate the high-end tastes and budgets of the guests in attendance. The large floor sparkled and buzzed with the flashy call of slot machines and cascaded with the sounds of shuffled cards, thrown dice, and spun roulette wheels. Liquor flowed liberally throughout the galleries and pooled in particular around the poker tables attended by impeccably dressed and implacably smiling dealers.

            Liam had snuck his way into their ranks using his normal tricks of confidence, capability, and Irish charm. Though it had been no small feat the job of being situated at the most valuable table on the floor hadn’t been astronomical, either. Every inch of him exuded warmth and the friendly, challenging persona of an exceptional dealer keen on drawing guests in. His table had been intermittently busy as guests moved in ebbs and flows through the casino, casting thousands of dollars in chips down nonchalantly onto the table and departing in merry spirits whether they won or lost. He treated them all to kind words and smiles, and left many dizzy with his casual flirtations.

            An hour or so after the crowd in the casino had grown thick with guests a familiar pair of faces swam forward out of the throng. It was Oz and Raven, both dressed in full tuxedos complete with white waistcoats and bow ties. Oz’s Jackrabbit watch was tucked into his pocket and the little chain twisted a runnel of gold at his waist. Raven had completed his suit with a white gardenia tucked at his lapel, which matched the silk ribbon he’d used to tie his hair back for the evening.

            Raven flashed Liam a look and raised his glass, but neither he nor Raven made any further indication they knew one another. Liam gave him the same cordial nod he’d give any other guest and returned to scanning the crowd for willing players. The knowledge that their plan had worked its way into place and now they stood poised on the edge of discovery and possible battle turned a nervous knot in Liam’s stomach. He crossed his right ankle briefly behind himself to assure the handgun strapped to it was still in place. On finding it he let out a tense breath and picked up a pack of cards to give his hands something to do instead of fidgeting.

            A scant few minutes after Oz and Raven’s passing Liam caught sight of another familiar figure. It was Charlotte, decked in her usual brand of barely-clothed finery. Her dress this evening was a silk organza affair in deep fuchsia, with a full skirt and a bodice made entirely of flesh-colored mesh and lacy flower appliques that were barely enough to protect her modesty. The cards nearly slipped from Liam’s hand as Charlotte turned briefly to look in his direction. The turn revealed a much younger, much smaller woman accompanying her, whose quick-blinking eyes and fidgety hands exuded an unsettling kind of energy. She wore a modest, dark blue ball gown with crystals and glass beads patterned into its skirt and a set of opera-length white gloves that left her arms shimmery. Her orange hair had been pulled back into a tight bun and her blue eyes left sparkling by a pair of diamond drop earrings hanging from her ears. She was the picture of a child thrilled to be dressed as a princess for the evening, not out of place at all. She wouldn’t have seemed out of the ordinary at a first glance or a second, though a third might have produced a certain, indescribable sense of unease.

            _Lily..._ Liam smiled at Charlotte as she started in his direction, and when she approached the table he set down his cards to give her his full attention. “Good evening, ladies. How may I be of service?” he asked cheerily.

            “Do I know you?” Charlotte asked. She leaned on his table and studied him.

            Liam shook his head and adopted a thoughtful expression. “I’m sorry, miss, but I don’t think so,” he said.

            She tipped her head. “You used to work at the Casino Royale de Monte Carlo,” she said firmly. Her voice gained a flirty edge. “If I’m not mistaken.”

            Liam’s eyes lit up and he coached a jovial expression onto his face. “I worked there for several years. My apologies to have forgotten you, miss.” He let his eyes trace up and down her torso. “It’s a wonder anyone could manage to forget you, with a face like that.”

            Charlotte giggled. “You’re too kind...” her eyes wandered to his nametag and then back up to his face. “Liam.”

            Lily stood on tiptoe to see better over the table and take Liam in. “Liam...” she repeated. Her voice was breathy and slightly strained.

            Liam nodded. “That’s right, sweetheart...What’s your name?”

            “I’m Lily,” Lily said plainly. Her eyes remained glued to Liam’s face, memorizing it.

            He turned back to Charlotte. “And how rude of me, I’ve forgotten to ask yours.”

            “Oh it’s Charlotte...but you can call me Lottie. Lottie Villars,” she replied. Her mouth turned up in a smile as Liam took one of her hands and kissed the back of it. “It’s a shame you’re working...I’d love to get to know you better.” She turned her hand over in Liam’s and ran two fingers along the sensitive underside of his wrist.

            “If only. But maybe we’ll meet again sometime. In my homeland there’s an old wives tale that if you meet the same person three times by chance they’re your true love,” Liam said with as wink.

            Charlotte put her free hand on her cheek in a gesture of feigned modesty. “I’m not really after _love_.” She leaned forward, hinging at the waist so her breasts pressed against the neckline of her gown.

            Liam hummed and gave her a nod. “Well, then perhaps we don’t need a third chance meeting...” he murmured.

            Charlotte stood up once more and released Liam. She readjusted her dress and dropped a hand onto Lily’s back. “If you find yourself with any free time, Liam, I’ll be around.” She bit her lip suggestively. “Don’t go letting your eyes wander...”

            “I won’t, Lottie.” He gave her a wink. “Enjoy some champagne for me. And if you’re so inclined humor with me a game of poker, later.”

            “Oh, I’m afraid I’m not much of a card player,” Lottie said with a giggle and a wave of her hand.

            “I am,” Liam replied. “If the house is on your side it’s all but impossible to lose...”

            Lottie grinned wolfishly. “Maybe I will be back, then.” She stepped away from the table, guiding Lily along with her. “Come on, Lily...”

            Lily followed obediently, though her eyes remained trained on Liam as long as they could while she and Charlotte vanished into the crowd.

            Liam’s shoulders relaxed and he returned to busying himself with his pack of cards as Charlotte and Lily left. _Perfect. Now it’ll be even easier to make sure she wins the game with Leo..._

            The sea of silk and chiffon-draped bodies roiled aimlessly by for another few minutes. Liam played a few hands with a few gentlemen who quickly lost their money and left his table and instructed a few lost-looking young women towards the main hall. The nervousness of waiting eased up on him like a thick smoke, choking his breathing and lending a suspicious bent to the looks he cast around the room.

            Just when his focus had begun to wane and paranoia to eke into his every thought the crowd parted again and released an angel. Liam looked up briefly at a woman in an elegant silver gown and then found his neck snapping up sharply in a double take. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

            The woman was short, slight, and possessed of a dancer’s irreproachable grace. Every step she walked was like one taken on ice, full of a beautiful fragility that at once instilled the desire to protect. Her slim shoulders swayed in perfect time with the roll of her supple hips, and that pattern gave rise to an undeniable swell of arousal and attraction low in Liam’s stomach. The sleeveless gown she wore fit her narrow torso like a glove, accentuating her small breasts and narrow waist and then freeing up around her hips into a tangle of silky skirts. A slit in one side cut all the way up to her mid-thigh, and with every step she took her supple calves swished in and out of view. Bursts of color made their way into her wardrobe in her shoes and jewelry, both of which were resplendently violet. A choker at her neck drew attention to its length and amethyst earrings sparkled in her lobes, playing cool shadow onto her cheeks. Atop her white gloves glistened a few further traces of purple stone, and the strappy heels she wore beneath her gown twisted vines of radiant purple around her trim ankles.

            Liam’s eyes lifted at last to her face and his mouth fell open in awe. Her makeup was flawless, effortlessly applied to appear both artful beyond belief and casual. Her ochre eyes simmered among pools of smoky grey eyeshadow and her lips simpered in a rich red that brought color and life to her otherwise moon-pale face. Her snowy hair had been curled and pulled back in the front to provide a sleek frame for her delicate cheeks and her eyelashes lengthened by a few coats of mascara. In all she was a vision of wintery grace, still and fluid all at once, begging to be touched and yet too beautiful to be soiled by human hands.

            Liam blinked once more in wonder. “Break...” he whispered.

            Break made his elegant way down the stairs accompanied by another woman, who was clearly recognizable to most of the crowd based on the looks and comments she was getting. Liam recognized Leo at once, radiant in a gown in gold and sunset orange and with his hair pulled back on one side and held in place by a clip shaped like a small collection of marigolds. The diamond necklace with the bug implanted in it glistered around his throat, a vision of wealth and extravagance. Liam’s heart skipped a beat as Leo and Break made their way to him, though he did his best to compose himself by the time they arrived.

            Break leaned on the table artfully, trapping his chin in one hand and letting his other slide along the table’s wooden rim. “What the hell’s your problem?” he asked, his voice dripping with implication.

            Liam’s jaw dropped again. _The first words I ever said to him, all the way back in Monte Carlo...Holy shit..._ Liam opened his mouth to offer a witty reply but found himself muted by Break’s beauty. “I-I...”

            Leo gave a giggle and nudged Break with his shoulder. “I think you’ve got an admirer, Madeline...” he lilted.

            Break gave a giggle and batted her eyelashes at Liam. “Do you think I’m beautiful, dealer?”

            Liam nodded mutely.

            Break tossed his hair and smiled. “Well you’re not so bad yourself...” he murmured.

            “Liam?”

            Leo and Break both turned at the sound of the voice and found themselves face to face with Charlotte and Lily. Charlotte put her hands on her hips and looked Break up and down, then turned her attention to Liam. “I thought I told you not to let your eyes wander,” she quipped.

            Leo interjected before Liam or Break could speak. “Oh _Charlotte!_ How lovely to see you again. I was just introducing my friend Madeline around,” he said.

            Charlotte’s lips pursed in irritation. “Lacie L’Vitsa, what an unexpected pleasure,” she drawled. Her tone switched at once and her smile grew victorious and heady. “I’m surprised to see you in orange...isn’t purple usually your color?”

            Leo bristled and one of his hands closed into a fist. Liam and Break exchanged a momentary glance as the plan began to unfold in front of them.

            “What do you want, Charlotte?” he hissed.

            “Just the satisfaction of knowing I have something you don’t,” she replied.

            “Isn’t that rather childish? Really, not very ladylike at all...” Leo said.

            Charlotte looked him up and down. “ _Lady_ like? You’re one to talk,” she returned.

            Lily took a step closer to Break and looked up at him. Her eyes pierced deep into his. “What’s your name?” she asked.

            Break’s skin crawled at the unsettling look. “Madeline. And yours?” he asked.

            “I’m Lily,” she said evenly.

            Break crouched so he could be more on her level. He gave her a sweet smile. “Little Lily...You truly stand out from the clutter, Lily.”

            Lily’s eyes widened briefly and then relaxed a bit. “Do I?”

            “Of course! I bet you’ve been getting wide-eyed looks all night from your admirers, hmm?” he asked.

            Lily nodded. She looked up at Charlotte and then down at Break again. “Yes...”

            Break’s smile shifted a little and he stood once more.

            Charlotte looked down at Lily but spared only a brief moment of surprise for her placidity. Her eyes fixated on Leo again at once. “If your friend’s as high society as you are then it seems odd to me to introduce her to poker dealers...” she quipped.

            Liam leaned forward to interject. “Please, ladies-“

            Leo spoke over him. “You took something from me, Charlotte. Maybe I want to take something back,” he spat.

            The two of them glared at one another for a long moment, both tensed as though ready to spring. “Lacie...” Break said. He placed a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Look, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about with all this ‘eye for an eye, you took something from me’ nonsense, but why don’t we settle this like ladies?” He gestured to the poker table. “With a bet...Winner takes all.”

            Leo gave him a harsh look. “A _bet?_ I’m not a poker player,” he said.

            “I am,” Break soothed. “I’ll help you.” He smiled at Charlotte. “Do you play?”

            Charlotte glanced at Liam. “Liam does.” She turned more fully towards him. “You _did_ offer to help me if the need arose...”

            Liam smiled at Charlotte. “I did,” he admitted.

            “Well how is _that_ fair?!” Leo protested.

            “It’s just as fair as any other poker game,” Break soothed. He took a seat. “You against the house.” He smiled at Liam. “Isn’t that right?”

            Liam couldn’t help another infatuated nod, to which Charlotte clicked her tongue. She took a seat at the table across from Break, her eyes narrowed and her mouth curled downwards into a scowl. “Fine.”

            Liam looked between them. “This is a bit unorthodox, but alright...Do either of you have chips?” At their mutual silence his brow furrowed. “Well...do you have something else to bet, then? Anything of value will do. This match doesn’t really seem to be about money...”

            “It’s not.” Leo reached behind his head and unhooked the large diamond necklace from his neck. He tossed it onto the table. “I’ll bet this.”

            Charlotte looked hungrily at the necklace and then unclasped her own bracelet and earrings. She set them in a pile across from Leo’s necklace.

            After a beat of silence Liam picked up the deck of cards to shuffle. “Alright...Ladies, the game is Texas Hold ‘em. Buy-in is determined by playe-“

            “Wait.” Charlotte held up a hand and cut him off. She studied Leo. “I want to wager something else, too...If you win I’ll give you the location of what I took from you. It hasn't been sold yet, but it will be.”

            Leo’s eyes flashed bright and he smiled. “That’s a hefty bet...What happens if I lose?”

            Lottie’s eyes snapped to Leo’s right and landed unfalteringly on Break. Her lips twisted up in a smile. “If you lose...I get her.”

            Alarm clenched in Liam’s gut and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lottie, I don’t think that’s-“

            “Done,” Break said firmly, with a smile.

            Liam fought hard to keep his breath from catching. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“I’m serious,” Break said with a nod.

Liam spared him another moment’s long look, then glanced at Leo. The surprise and subtle determination and fear in his eyes brought him a strange degree of comfort and he returned to his cards. He shuffled them once more and looked back up at the players. “Alright...The game is Texas Hold ‘em. Minimum buy-in is determined by each player. This is a limited game, no live straddle, and cards will be shown in showdowns.” Break gave Liam a nod.

Liam dealt out cards to he and Break and set the rest of the deck down neatly beside him. He took a deep breath.

“Alright,” he said. “If you’re all ready, then let’s begin.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!
> 
> There are several trigger warnings for this chapter: 
> 
> We're back to pretty intense action, so there's quite a bit of violence. Nothing absurdly graphic, though.
> 
> Late in the chapter, during the second part of the scene with Break, Charlotte, and Lily, there's a brief discussion of and ideation on suicide. It's a hypothetical situation, not a reference to a past event, and nothing comes of it. 
> 
>    
> On a lighter note I've had several people ask in the comments section whether I'd be comfortable with them drawing fanart for this series. That would be a wholehearted YES! As long as you cite the story as your source you're free to create what you'd like and post it wherever you want to. I do ask that if you create something you leave a comment with a link to it, if you're comfortable sharing. I'd love to see your work and to give shoutouts to those of you drawing scenes from this story in the author's notes of upcoming chapters. 
> 
> Happy reading, and thank you all for your support!
> 
>    
> 

Break looked around in appreciative admiration as he, Charlotte, and Lily left the casino in favor of the beach blossoming beyond the gardens. The night was warm and comforting, far more so than the pressure of Liam’s eyes Break could feel boring holes in his back.

_So much for don’t split up...Liam's going to kick my ass_...

He swirled the champagne in his glass and took a delicate sip.

Charlotte drifted up beside him as they made their way down the marble promenade bordering on the gardens. She looped her elbow through his and gave him a charming smile. “So, your name’s Madeline?”

Break affected slight shyness and gave a gentle nod. “Yes, it is...But you can call me Mad. It’s a nickname from childhood...” he said.

“Mad?” Charlotte asked, curious. “That’s an unusual nickname...”

Break giggled girlishly. “Well I’m an unusual girl...”

Lily drew up close on his other side and looked up at him with a consternated frown. “Why Mad?” she asked.

“Hush, Lily,” Charlotte scolded before Break had time to reply.

“Oh it’s alright.” Break smiled down at Lily. “It’s short for ‘Madeline’, is all.” He looked between Lily and Charlotte. “Are the two of you sisters?”

“Cousins,” Charlotte replied.

“Cousins...Is your family very large? I can’t say I’ve heard the name ‘Villars’ before...” Break said.

An irritated flicker passed across Charlotte’s face and she stopped abruptly. Her hand slipped up and tightened on Break’s upper arm to turn him to face her. “ _Don’t_ ask questions like that,” she hissed.

Break affected alarm and stiffened. “I’m sorry...” he whispered. The tremble in his voice, though fabricated, was enough to put a victorious little smile on Charlotte’s face.

“Good.” She dropped her hold on his arm and returned to walking towards the beach without waiting to see if Break was following.

Lily gave a seedy giggle and grinned up at Break. “You’re in _trouble..._ ” Her voice lilted around the syllables almost like a song and her teeth flashed bright in the moonlight.

Break’s easy expression shifted. His eyes narrowed and his mouth contorted into a little smile. He leaned down to look Lily directly in the face. “ _You’re_ in trouble...” he whispered.

Lily’s eyes widened and she jumped backwards so hard she nearly tripped on her dress. She scrambled up again, eyes still locked on Break.

He straightened too, and adopted his casual smile once more. He caught up with Charlotte after a few quick steps and looked demurely over at her. “I’m sorry if I offended, Miss Villars...I’m a little out of place in high society, you see...Lacie’s my one link to all this finery. I’m not always certain how to behave,” he explained.

Charlotte glanced his way with a frown. Her face softened slightly as she considered him. “How long have you known Lacie?”

“Only a year or so...” He smiled. “Oh I think she and Elliot Nightray just make the most perfect couple in the world, don’t you?” he gushed.

Charlotte clicked her tongue and looked away. “A dog could court better than Elliot Nightray,” she said.

Break gasped a little melodramatically. “Oh you don’t like him? I think he’s so charming! And smart, too!”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the Nightrays. I never have. They and my family don’t get along...” she said.

They reached the edge of the gardens, where the grass met the sand. Break stopped and bent to remove his shoes. When he straightened he found Charlotte watching him. “What?” he asked with a light, surprised blush.

“You’re very beautiful,” Charlotte said simply.

Break skipped out onto the sand and twirled, setting his skirts fanning out around his ankles and knees. “Beautiful enough to make up for not being able to get your hands on that dealer?” he teased.

“More than.” Charlotte bent and removed her own shoes and then followed Break out into the sand. Her arm dropped around his waist and she leaned in close to kiss him.

“Oh Charlotte...” Break blushed and looked away.

“You don’t want me to kiss you?” Charlotte’s voice grew a little darker and more sinister as she said it.

Break looked back at her and bit his lip. “Not here...I...I’ve never kissed another woman before. I want to be able to...” His voice trailed away and he looked down shyly, fumbling with his shoes.

Charlotte gave a low hum and kissed Break’s forehead, then drew back to look him up and down. “You won’t know which way is up by the time I’m finished with you, Madeline...” she murmured.

“Charlotte!” Lily hissed. “You’re not supposed to-“

“ _Lily_ ,” Charlotte warned. Her voice grew strict and she turned to glare at Lily. The younger woman was silent, and Charlotte’s eyes returned to Break. She reached for his hand and squeezed it lightly. “Don’t worry about Lily. She’s young. She doesn’t understand things like attraction...” She drew close to Break as she said it and rolled her body against his. “Unlike us, right...?”

Break swallowed and looked down at her. He nodded. “That’s r-right, Charlotte...”

“Lottie,” Charlotte corrected. “If I’m going to call you by your nickname then you can call me by mine.”

“Lottie...” Break whispered. He let the name roll off his tongue like sweet water, accompanied by a little sigh.

The sound seemed to please Charlotte and she pulled away. Her hand found Break’s and she tugged him down the beach. “Come on. The place we’re staying isn’t far from here,” she said.

Break allowed himself to be tugged along behind Charlotte. He turned and cast a glance back at Lily as she trotted after them. She bristled and bared her teeth. Break responded with a little smile. He drew up beside Charlotte and squeezed her hand. “You must be older than Lily, right? By how much?”

“She’s 16 and I’m 23,” Charlotte affirmed.

“Oh you’re making me feel _old_ , Lottie. I've just turned 25!” Break groaned.

“Oh, you don’t look a day over 20,” Charlotte said with a wink. “I think it’s your skin tone.”

Break laughed. “I suppose it’s the universe’s way of making up for the fact that if I even think about the sun too hard I’ll get burned,” he said with a titter of a laugh.

“How can a ghost burn?” Lily asked.

Charlotte shot her a venomous look. “ _Lily!_ Be polite! Madeline’s our guest for the evening,” she snapped.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been called a ghost,” Break said. He squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “It’s alright.”

Silence fell as they walked along the shoreline. Break turned to watch moonlight lap against the surface of the darkened ocean. The crescent of a large fish leaping from below sliced an arch of darkness in the rippling surface and Break exhaled a long breath.

_This could be it. This could be the battle that kills me. If I’ve underestimated what she and Lily can do or overestimated what I can then this might be it..._ The thought was familiar, almost customary after years of fighting. Yards from shore the fish vanished with a splash. Break smiled as it went and a feeling of peace settled over him.

Satisfied and newly confident he smiled at Charlotte as they turned from the ocean and towards a boutique hotel on the beachfront. “You have excellent taste, Lottie. This hotel’s _gorgeous_ ,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” Lottie flirted. She stepped out of the sand, wiped her feet on the cement of the path leading to it, and then slipped back into her shoes. The change in height the heels lent her put her directly at Break’s eye level. She looked him up and down and smiled. “Keep your shoes off, hmm? I like being your height.”

Break nodded. “I will.”

He followed Charlotte down the long, winding path through the hotel’s well-kept grounds towards a ground-floor beachfront room. Charlotte and Lily’s suite sat apart from the others on its row, separated from them by a wall of thick, flowering hedges. As they approached Break’s attentive eye sought out places he could use for escape if necessary. His eye snagged on the glass door that led out onto the verandah and wandered along the hedge to a window that opened through a hole in it and out into the night.

Charlotte removed her clutch purse from around her wrist and opened it. She grinned delightedly at the diamond necklace within, then passed it by to pull out her key. She slid it through the door’s electronic lock and admitted all three of them. The suite was spacious, more like a small apartment than a hotel room, complete with splendid furniture and a fully-stocked bar glinting in the moonlight. Charlotte flipped a switch and several cheery bulbs winked on to illuminate the space.

Break took a few shy steps into the room and looked around. “Oh my...”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Charlotte asked.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here...” Lily hissed almost under her breath as she passed.

Charlotte grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around. “What did you say? You treacherous, ungrateful-“ She raised a hand to strike Lily. The memory of Break’s presence and the concerned look on his face when she looked up at her stayed her hand and she straightened.

Break cleared his throat and took a step away. “G-Give me a moment, will you...? I’d like to freshen up...” He hurried away under the pretense of avoiding an awkward situation and entered a bathroom near the entryway. He shut the door hurriedly behind him and flicked on the light and then turned the knob to start the sink running. With the noise of it to muffle his movements he dropped at once onto his stomach and pressed the side of his head as best he could to the crack between the door and the floor.

The first thing he heard was the loud crack of a slap and an angry cry of protest. “What the _fuck_ has gotten into you?!” Charlotte hissed.

“You’re not supposed to bring people back here!” Lily protested. “You weren’t supposed to take that diamond, either. And you got Fang killed, and you’re so stupid that Doug will pro-“

            Another slap. “Call me stupid again and I swear to God I’ll tear your eyes out!” Charlotte spat.

            “Then you’d be in trouble _twice_.” Lily gave a snicker. “I’d come back as a ghost just to see the awful things the boss would do to you!” she teased.

            A long moment of silence followed.

            When Lily finally broke it her voice was quiet and eerie, almost inhuman. “You’re getting too big for your britches, Charlotte...You’re letting everything that _snake_ says to you get to your head and you’re going to _die_ for it.”

            “Is that a threat? You couldn’t take me in a fight, you pathetic piece of trash,” Charlotte said.

            “We both know who could, though...” Lily replied.

            “He’s on my side,” Charlotte said at once. “He _loves_ me, he said so. He wouldn’t kill me.” A few sounds of movement followed, along with the thump of something being thrown. Charlotte’s voice rose in pitch and desperation. “That’s a _stupid_ thing to say! Stupid, stupid!” she wheezed.

            Lily’s voice gained a sharper, icier edge. “He doesn’t love you...” she half-sang. “You know it. He’s just _using_ you like everybody else does.”

            Break’s brow furrowed. _She’s doing something with her voice...something that’s making Charlotte angrier. She’s setting her off..._

            “ _Fuck you!_ ” Charlotte gasped. “And fuck your little tricks! Just-Just shut up! Stop talking!”

            “You’re all al-lone!” Lily chimed with a giggle. A quiet shriek of pain interrupted Lily’s gloating.

“Once Leo’s dead I’m going to report this. I’m going to tell the boss and we’ll see what he has to say about a Psychosis class trying to usurp a _Sabre_ ,” Charlotte growled.

Lily whined an agonized, slightly melodic sound. “Look what you did. There’s blood all over the couch. Now your pretty guest’s going to know what a psycho you are,” she pouted.

“Oh like I care. She isn’t leaving here alive anyway,” Charlotte said.

            “Well at least we agree on _something_ ,” Lily said.

A moment of gut-wrenching fear and nausea rose on Break. He pulled away from the door and slid to his knees and then up to his feet, where he turned to the mirror and gave himself a long look. Despite all he’d heard from Charlotte and Lily his expression remained perfectly untroubled, almost placid. He gave himself a nod and removed the clutch purse from around his wrist. A familiar shape rested inside – the coiled silver of his cane in its fluid-like whip form. He gave the edge of the blade a tap and hissed in pain and satisfaction when the edge nipped a miniscule cut into his skin.

Charlotte and Lily were still conversing beyond the door in hushed mumbles. Break considered dropping to the floor to listen again but shook off the idea along with a remaining smattering of concern and fear. He adjusted his hair and skirts a little and then pulled the door open a little, adjusting his look into one of demure shyness as he did. He bit his lip when he caught Charlotte and Lily engaged in a fierce staring match with one another. He glanced briefly at Charlotte’s clutch, whose contents – including the bugged diamond necklace – had spilled onto the table. _Please be watching...Please, please be watching..._ He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to...interrupt...I can go if you’d like.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth a little in Charlotte’s direction. Then she turned, slow and easy, to look at Break. Her right cheek dripped with blood from a long gouge that had been rent into it and her eyes glinted with inhuman light. When she spoke her voice was possessed of the haunting magic that had filled it while she taunted Charlotte.

“You’re not going _anywhere..._ ”

  

* * *

 

           

            Liam didn’t last long at the table after Break’s departure in Charlotte’s company. He’d left Leo without a word and rushed through the casino until he’d found Oz and Raven drinking and casually watching the dancers in the main hall. A short exchange of grizzly truth had sobered both of them at once, and within minutes Oz had fetched his briefcase from coat check and the three of them had fled up a dozen floors to the hotel’s unoccupied business center.

            Liam’s anger manifested the second they were out of sight, and he slammed the door shut behind the three of them and locked it furiously.

            “How soon can you get the bug’s location?” he asked.

            Oz took a seat at the single desk in the room and pulled his laptop from his bag. “It’ll take a few minutes...” He caught sight of Raven out of the corner of one eye. He’d retreated to the corner of the room to smoke, and stood brooding and staring into the distance. “Isn’t Break armed? He’ll be able to take care of himself for a few minutes, right? He’s done it before.”

            Liam’s fury boiled over and he slammed his fist against the door again. He turned on his heel and began to pace the room, furious and lethally strong as a caged tiger. “Damn him to _fucking_ hell!” he shouted. He lashed a kick at the desk chair near him. It clattered to the floor with a loud bang. “What the fuck was he thinking?! No more splitting up, he said, and here we are just hours later and he’s in the fucking hornets’ nest _alone_!”

            Oz’s eyes flicked up. “Calm down,” he said evenly.

            Liam jolted to a stop and gave Oz a disbelieving look. _“Calm down?!_ Do you have any idea what it’s like to see the person you love in da-“

            “Yes.” Oz’s tone was cold, hard, and utterly unforgiving.

            Liam and Oz both glanced at Raven, who stood in the corner of the office with a cigarette between his lips, flicking a butterfly knife in one hand. He caught them staring and the knife came to an abrupt halt. “Don’t look at me.” His voice was uncharacteristically dark with fury and upset.

            Liam averted his eyes and bent to pick up the office chair he’d knocked over. Oz returned to typing. Raven’s cigarette churned up a silky drapery of smoke into the air.

            “...You should have cheated that hand. You should have _forced_ him to win,” Raven said lowly.

            Liam leaned heavily against the chair, his eyes trained downwards. “I tried. He knows all my tricks.”

            Raven took another long draw from his cigarette. “Then you should have done something else.”

            Liam’s fists clenched on the back of the chair and his eyes locked on Raven again. “What would you have done?” he asked sharply.

            Raven’s expression bent and he turned to look at Liam, eyes stellated with fiery emotion. “You want to talk about what I’ve done for Oz?” He took a step away from the wall and the knife jerked to an alarming stop in his hand. “What you should have done is known your kamikaze psychopath of a boyfriend well enough to know he’d pull something like this!” he shouted.

            Wrath grew on Liam and he hurled the chair aside again, hard enough that when it struck the wall something cracked. “ _Kamikaze_ _psychopath_?!” He took a step towards Raven. “How _dare you._ And how dare you preach to me like that! What gives _you_ the right to be the only one who’s upset about what he did and what could be happening to him right now?”

            “Because it’s not my fault.” Raven’s voice was cool and flat, and the short phrase sucked all the air from the room.

            Liam took a step back as though he’d been struck. “Wow...” he said in angry disbelief. He turned from Raven to fetch the chair.

            Raven caught himself at once and lifted a hand to his mouth in horror. “Oh God, Liam. I’m so-“

            “Forget it,” Liam said. He shoved the chair back into place and took a seat, his eyes locking straight ahead.

            “Liam, I didn’t mean it...” Raven said at once. He hesitated towards Liam, hands raised in an offer of peace.

            “I said forget it,” Liam said coldly.

            Raven’s face fell and his shoulders visibly sagged. Pleading desperation rose on him along with the threat of tears. “Liam...? Liam, please...” he whimpered.

            Liam gritted his teeth and forced his eyes to remain where they were.

            “I got it.” Oz’s voice was a welcome reprieve from the fizzling tension between Liam and Raven. Their attention snapped to him at once.

            “Where is he?” Liam asked. He leaned forward to look over the desk at Oz’s screen. The jumbled diagrams and numbers there made him wince. _Lost...Lost, surely...Look at all that data..._

            Raven crept up on Oz’s other side and looked down at the screen and then up at Liam. He read the desperate look on his face and spoke up in an attempt to comfort him. “It’s okay...It’s binary for now, but it’ll decrypt...”

            Liam’s fingers tightened on the edge of the desk and he gave no reply. “Oz, what’ll we see when the picture comes in?” he asked.

            “Well, whatever the necklace’s camera is pointed at. But it’ll give me coordinates, too,” he said.

“They can’t have gone far,” Raven added. “It’s been reading out the same sequence of binary for awhile now. That means the coordinates have stayed the same, right?” he asked Oz.

Oz nodded. “Yeah.” He looked up at the other two. “Did either of you tell Elliot and Leo where we were going?”

Raven reached up and fingered the gold cuff on his left ear. “If he’s wearing his communication device then I’ll be able to get in touch with Leo.” He looked meekly up at Liam. “They...should probably come here, right?”

The frailty in Raven’s voice tugged at something in Liam and he sighed and looked up at Raven. “Yeah,” he said.

Gratitude and hope took shape in Raven’s expression and he clung to the moment of contact. “I’m sorry,” he repeated in a desperate whisper.

Liam held Raven’s gaze and gave him a grudging nod. “Yeah.” He gave a heavy sigh and pushed himself up from the desk, then walked across the room. He set his fists against the wall and rested his forehead on them. “Fuck, I need a drink...”

“Liam...” Raven hesitated and then left the table. He crossed to Liam and reached out to place a gentle hand on his back. Gratitude swelled his chest into a massive tangle of emotion when Liam remained in place rather than shifting away. “We’ll find him. We’ll bring him back,” he said.

Liam took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’d even do if something happened to him.” His voice trembled with uncharacteristic weakness and every word seemed a palpable struggle. He turned one hand and reached beneath his shirt for where the gold cross he always wore hung around his neck. He took it between his fingers and held it tight. The familiar pressure between his palm and fingers provided an anchor and a light. He whispered a quick prayer under his breath. “D-Do you know where he is yet?” Liam asked shakily once the prayer was done.

“It’s decrypting now. It’ll be another 30 seconds or so,” Oz said.

Raven patted Liam’s back. “I’ll call Elliot and Leo now, alright?” He set his shoulders. “And when we know where Break is I’ll go get him.”

Liam’s head shot up and Oz whirled around in his chair, aghast.

“ _No!_ ” Oz said.

“Not a chance. That’s ridiculous!” Liam added.

A natural impulse to give in and submit to Liam and Oz’s loud voices swarmed up in Raven’s chest. He suppressed a wince and looked down. “I-I...”

Oz shook his head firmly. “You can’t do that, Raven. You just can’t.”

An unbidden surge of disgust and anger surged through Raven and his eyes snapped upwards. “Is that an order?” he barked.

Oz blinked at him, dumbfounded. “No...” he said.

Liam gave Raven a shaky smile. “We just want you to be safe, Raven.”

“And I want you to be safe,” Raven countered. “You were shot three days ago. Leo’s still healing, too.” Liam opened his mouth to speak again but Raven shook his head and cut him off. “No. I’m not arguing about this. When we find out where Break is I’ll go to him.” He turned to Oz. “Is it done?”

Oz’s eyes shifted to the computer screen, where the coordinates and a corresponding video feed of the inside of Charlotte’s purse had appeared. He swallowed. _I could lie...He’d never know..._

“Oz?” Raven repeated more firmly.

Oz closed his eyes and turned to look up at Raven. The compulsion to lie fell away in the face of Raven’s determination. “You were right, Charlotte isn’t far away. She’s only about half a mile down the beach,” he said.

Liam leaned down over Oz again to study the computer’s screen. “What’s the video showing?” he asked urgently.

“Nothing yet. Just the inside of Charlotte’s purse,” Oz said.

“What about audio?” Liam asked.

Oz shook his head. “None yet. It’ll take longer to download and decrypt.”

Raven straightened and began running his hands over his body, checking the state and quantity of his weapons. He lifted a hand to the cuff in his ear and pressed hard on both ends. A tiny, whining beep signaled the success of the summoning transmission.

“I’ll upload the coordinates to the computer in your watch,” Oz said. He took a deep breath and looked up at Raven with fearful, pleading eyes. “Please be careful. Please, _please_ be careful,” he whispered.

Raven leaned down and kissed Oz’s forehead. “I’ll be safe, Juniper...I’ll see you soon,” he said.

“Don’t engage Charlotte and Lily in combat unless you absolutely _have_ to,” Liam instructed. He clenched a fist. “And when you see Break give him a _solid_ punch to the face for me.”

Raven chuckled. “I will...When I’ve got him I’ll send a transmission to Oz’s pocket watch and we can meet back at the safe house.”

Oz clicked on the video feed to enlarge it and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll keep an eye on this. If anything goes wrong I’m sending Liam and Leo after you regardless of injury,” Oz said.

Raven looked over at Liam. “I don’t suppose there’s any point at all in me protesting against that?” he asked.

“None,” Liam said with an honest smile. He reached out and gripped Raven’s shoulder tight. “Be safe, featherhead.”

Raven clasped Liam’s shoulder in return. “I will.” He pulled Liam close and they embraced briefly. Then he looked down at Oz.

Oz rose before Raven had the chance to speak and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Raven’s chest. He hugged him tight. “I-I...” Oz looked up at Raven. “I’ll miss you.”

Raven ran a hand through Oz’s messy blond hair. “I’ll be back before you know it...Don’t get into any trouble while I’m away.”

An awkward moment gave way to a rush of deep intimacy as they mutually closed the space between them and kissed. It was deep and passionate, full of unsaid things and unspent emotion, and when they pulled apart their eyes burned with identical longing. Raven took another long breath as he looked down into Oz’s eyes and then turned to go without another word.

An expectant moment passed as the door clicked shut behind Raven. Oz sat at the desk again and crossed his legs. “So...Are you going to follow him, or what?” he asked.

Liam removed his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “Of course I’m going to follow him.” He replaced his glasses and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, which he rolled up to his elbows. “Do you have me bugged?” he asked.

Oz guffawed and turned to look up at Liam. “What do you mean ‘do you have me bugged’?” he said defensively.

All defiance and outrage fell from Oz’s expression in the face of the wry look Liam gave him. “The last four of your drug rings Break and I’ve tried to intercept have had extra security.” He crossed his arms. “So...do you have me bugged?”

Oz spluttered something unintelligible and put his hands up. He sighed in defeat as Liam’s look only grew colder. “It’s in your glasses...”

“You little bastard,” Liam took off his glasses and examined them, then replaced them. “Well just keep doing what you’ve been doing for months, then, and track my location. If you see a suspicious change you, Elliot, and Leo get to the safe house right away, understand?”

Oz clutched the edge of the desk. “But...But what about...?”

Liam crouched so he could look Oz in the eyes. “I’ll keep Raven safe,” he murmured. “I promise, Oz.”

Oz met his eyes steadily. “I can’t lose him, Liam. Not now, when things are just starting to get better between us,” he said.

“I know,” Liam assured him. He took a deep breath. “He’s going to kill me for leaving you alone, so don’t you fucking move,” he warned.

Oz nodded. “I won’t. I’ll keep an eye on the two of you and when Leo and Elliot get up here we’ll stay put,” he replied.

Liam rose to his feet and gave Oz a stern look. “You better.” He looked Oz up and down. “Are you armed?”

“Yeah, I have a handgun,” Oz replied.

“Don’t use it unless you have to. The last thing we need is more violence.” Oz nodded and Liam turned to go. “Stay safe,” he called as the door shut behind him.

Oz heaved a deep breath in the empty silence that remained in Liam’s wake. He licked his lips and looked around, uncertain. _Leo and Elliot should be up here any minute now...That comm device works fast._

A sudden crackle from his computer’s speakers startled Oz enough that he jumped. The moment of spiking panic faded along with a rush of adrenaline as the initial burn of static was replaced with voices. Oz leaned forward to listen more closely.

“Oh like I care. She isn’t leaving here alive anyway.”

            “Well at least we agree on _something_.”

            Oz swallowed. _Break...They’re going to try and kill him..._

            A few static-filled seconds passed before Oz could make out further speech.

            “...doesn’t really matter...just another body...into the ocean...Not her we’re after...only one way to Leo, really...people taking care of it now, though. By the end of the night...done.”

            Oz’s stomach filled with a pit of dread.

            “We’re going after Elliot.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Elliot stood at the bar making casual conversation with another young nobleman dressed in similar finery to his own. His second glass of red wine swirled in his hand and a smile that belied the deep anxiousness pounding through him with every breath lit up his face.

            He’d drifted in and out of multiple conversations and even danced with a few girls in an attempt to distract himself from the knowledge of what was unfolding in the casino and the memory of Leo’s lips, which constantly threatened to rise and swallow his concentration.

            Elliot’s conversation partner, seeming to catch on to his distraction, gave a farewell and drifted away into the crowd. Elliot hardly noticed him go. Even the faintest inkling of thought had conjured he and Leo’s kisses to life again. He smiled down into his glass as he took a sip of wine. _I didn’t think he’d be so warm..._ His stomach fluttered and the memory of holding Leo in his lap, of their mouths pressed together, of Leo’s hair between his fingers swallowed him whole. He languished in it rather than pushing it away and gave in to a slight, heady sigh.

            Across the room three familiar shapes emerged from the casino and began to drift towards the door to the gardens. The spell crashed down around Elliot and he jolted to his feet. “Break?!” he whispered in alarm.

            As though he’d heard and understood Break’s head turned. He caught sight of Elliot at the bar and gave him a wink. His silver skirts swished out of view as he, Charlotte, and Lily made their way onto the portico.

            Someone grabbed Elliot’s elbow hard and he jolted around. It was Leo, his face troubled and angry and his free hand clenched in a fist at his side.

            “What happened?” Elliot hissed in a whisper, below the hearing of those around them.

            Leo cast a suspicious look around the room. His attention drifted to the band as they began to play and he tugged on Elliot’s elbow. “Dance with me. No one will hear over the music.”

            Elliot complied and followed Leo towards the dance floor. His stomach churned a little as Liam came racing out of the casino and scanned the room desperately. Seconds later he rushed across the room to Oz’s side, and after a short conversation the two of them vanished along with Raven.

            His arms dropped naturally around Leo, one at his waist and the other holding his hand at shoulder-height. They began to waltz in step with the dozens of other couples on the floor, both effortlessly moving in time.

            “Why was Break with Charlotte?” Elliot asked.

            Leo’s hand tightened in Elliot’s and his eyes narrowed a little. “He’s an idiot, that’s why,” he growled. “He put himself down as a raise to Charlotte’s and my bet.”

            Elliot gasped sharply. “ _What?!_ ”

            Leo nodded. “Liam wasn’t able to beat him. I think they were both cheating circles around each other, but Break won.”

            “Why did he do that?” Elliot demanded. He spun Leo beneath his arm and caught him again. “Was it part of the plan?”

            Leo’s voice grew dark. “Of course it wasn’t part of the plan.”

            “Did Charlotte end up with your necklace, too, at least?” Elliot asked.

            “She did. So Oz will be able to see where he is.” Leo gritted his teeth and spun beneath Elliot’s arm again. This time when Elliot caught him they pressed closer together. Leo looked up at him, apologetic now rather than furious. “I have to go after him, Elliot,” he said.

            “Leo, _no!_ ” Elliot exclaimed. He forced his voice to quiet again and pulled Leo tighter.

            “I _have_ to,” Leo repeated. “Break doesn’t know what he’s up against...Lily...wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Not even for a second.” He met Elliot’s eyes and studied them intently. “Trust me.”

            A long breath of silence passed between them, and a wealth of understanding. Elliot’s hand traced a gentle circle on the small of Leo’s back. “How do you know...?” he dared to ask.

            Leo looked down. He wrapped his arm around the back of Elliot’s neck and pressed the side of his face against his chest. His hand began to tremble. “I know her. I know them both.” He gave a miserable laugh and clung to Elliot, begging him to do anything but pull away. “I worked with them, Elliot...” he whispered, almost under his breath.

            Elliot spun Leo away as the dance demanded, but pulled him in again at once. He bent and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I know...I...figured it out.”

            Shock jarred through Leo and he came to a halt in the middle of the dance. He stared up at Elliot, wide-eyed and utterly disbelieving. “Y-You...?”

            Elliot nodded. He met Leo’s eyes and swallowed back a wave of heartache.

            “And...?” Leo asked. His voice was leaden with self-loathing and the fear of harsh judgment.

            “And nothing. You’ve always been my very best friend. Nothing could convince me otherwise,” Elliot said.

            “I love you, Elliot.” The words tumbled into the air unbidden, and in their wake Leo blushed fiercely. His hand on the back of Elliot’s neck went slack and his eyes widened hugely.

            Elliot gave a sudden, unbidden laugh and then clapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh my God,” he mumbled through his fingers.

            Leo’s blush grew darker and at once he pulled away. “Shit...” He turned. “I’m going after Break! Don’t go anywhere!” he stammered over his shoulder as he stumbled away. “Don’t go anywhere!” he repeated more urgently before vanishing.

            Elliot stood numb and dumbstruck in the wake of Leo’s abrupt disappearance. “O-Oh my God...” His head dropped and he smacked himself hard in the forehead. _What the hell on earth kind of response was **that**?! _ “I love you too!” he called utterly uselessly into the crowd. Leo had already vanished and Elliot clapped himself in the face again. “ _Fucking_ idiot! Oh you _fucking_ idiot.”

            He turned and hurried off the dance floor and back to the safe harbor of the bar, his head buzzing and his heart thundering a mile a minute in his chest. _Raven’s going to kill me. It’s that simple. At least Leo and Liam aren’t friends. The last thing I need is both of them after my ass._ The bartender pushed a drink Elliot’s way and he picked it up without thinking. He glanced briefly downwards and on seeing the rich honey of an ounce or two of scotch in the bottom of the glass lifted it to his mouth and drank down the entirety of the contents. A familiar, slightly charred aftertaste gave him a moment’s pause and he looked down into the glass again. Horror collected in his stomach as he watched a silty residue collecting in what little scotch remained.

            _What is that?_ A tickle at the back of his throat made him cough and the glass clattered from his hand as he made to inhale and found himself unable to draw breath. _Poisoned. Poisoned._ His hands flew to his throat and he looked desperately around the room. Paranoia jetted up from deep inside him and hooked at once into his senses. Every pair of eyes became a threat, every minute sound a gunshot. Even the pressure of his collar around his neck was too much. Half-blind and out of his mind with terror he jolted away from the bar and tumbled through the crowd towards the stairs he’d seen Oz, Raven, and Liam vanish up a few minutes before. _Liam. Liam will know what to do. He’ll help me._ He coughed another agonized breath and sagged against the railing of the stairs. His vision began to swim and his head to fill with dreadful pressure. _I’m going to die. Jesus Christ, I’m going to die._

            After what seemed an eternity Elliot finally fumbled his way to the top of the stairs and into the hallway beyond them. He stumbled and sagged to his knees as blue dots began to flood the edges of his vision. _I need air. I need air. If I don’t breathe-_ He clawed desperately at his bow tie with one hand as he began to crawl down the hall, all his focus pinned to one thought. _Liam will know what to do._

            That idea became a bastion as Elliot struggled for every breath and movement despite his body’s best efforts to shut down. His lack of knowledge as to Liam’s whereabouts paled in comparison to the need to find him and be saved. It drove him – half unconscious – to flee down the hall for all he was worth. Utter terror and panic closed in with each inch he crawled, and an attempt at a scream or sob became his undoing. The futile cry pushed his body to its limit and he sagged onto his side with a half-hearted croak. His eyes drifted out of focus and he felt his hands begin to tremble. _Leo...Fuck, I never told you..._ His eyes drifted shut.

            Hardly a second passed before the pressure of a sudden and hearty smack across the face jolted Elliot wide awake again.

            Oz was crouched above him, panicked and flighty. He smacked Elliot again and then hauled him into a sitting position. “Elliot? Elliot what happened? _Elliot?!_ ” he asked urgently.

            Elliot’s head lolled again and he gave a labored cough, his best attempt at speech.

            “Fuck.” Oz lifted Elliot’s chin in one hand and used his other to press against Elliot’s throat. His eyes shot wide with alarm. “ _Fuck!_ ” He began canvassing his pockets desperately, clumsy with his hurry. “Elliot, you’re going to be okay. I can fix this.”

            Elliot’s blood rushed with urgent fear as a formidable-looking bald man peeled out of the crowd and began to stride towards them. He was massive and lethal-looking, clearly a hired thug. Elliot curled back against the wall and tried managed to croak a labored syllable in warning.

            Oz looked up from his frantic search. “Hold on. Just hold on a second. I’m looking for my-“

            A blow to the side of the head from the massive man sent Oz sprawling to the floor with a cry. Something clattered out of his hand and skittered across the floor further down the hall. It was a small yellow tube with a bright orange cap, recognizable at this distance as an EpiPen. Elliot’s eyes locked on it and a fragile, desperate ray of hope and understanding flooded through him. _Peanuts. That’s what that taste was. It was peanuts._ He gathered every ounce of strength he had and made to haul himself from the wall.

            Oz recovered from the thug’s initial blow just as Elliot began to move. The instinct to flee overwhelmed him and he hauled himself into a sitting position. A second blow landed heavily in the soft part of his stomach and choked the air from him. He made to scream but a hand landed over his mouth and nose and choked the sound away.

            A garbled cry from Oz made Elliot’s blood spike again and he tumbled to the floor, still striving to reach the EpiPen. Without warning Oz’s full weight crashed down atop him as the thug threw him across the hall. A second later a large hand closed around one of Elliot’s shoulders and dragged him upwards. The thug’s knee slammed into Elliot’s ribs and blackness swam in dots across his vision. He felt himself go limp and an unexpected euphoria settled over him. _Dying...Can’t breathe..._

            Oz staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his nose. The bald man dropped Elliot heavily back to the floor and turned his attention more fully to Oz. Oz’s eyes darted to Elliot and he gritted his teeth. _He’s unconscious. It could be too late._ Still, instinct drove him to feign a leap at his assailant and then dive aside instead. The move set the larger man off-balance and distracted him long enough for Oz to fall hard to the floor barely within reach of the EpiPen, grab and uncap it, and launch himself back atop Elliot’s limp body. He used the momentum of his fall to jam the EpiPen hard directly into Elliot’s thigh a few inches above his knee.

            There was barely time for Oz to revel in the victory before the thug grabbed the back of his head and threw him hard against the wall again. The wind flew from Oz’s lungs and jarring pain shot up his left arm. He wheezed a pained cry, and then a second one of protest as the thug turned and clamped his hand around his throat.

            “You’re the Vessalius boy,” he said.

            Oz mustered his strength as the larger man pulled him upwards and pinned him against the wall. He grimaced and then spit a mouthful of blood into the thug’s eyes.

            The man gave a disgusted cry and reeled back on instinct, dropping his hold on Oz by default.

            Oz seized the chance and bolted the few feet to Elliot’s side. He’d regained consciousness and lay panting and wheezing on the floor. Oz grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him forward onto his hands and knees. “Get up!” he yelled.

            Elliot gave him a horrified look.

            “I said get _up!_ ” Oz reached down and smacked Elliot hard again.

            The jarring sting woke Elliot out of the haze of shock and a newfound strength coursed through him. He struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against Oz, and began to stumble beside him down the hall.

            Oz fumbled for his gun with his free hand and only barely managed to extract it from his pocket before the large man caught up with them. He slammed into Oz’s back with his full weight, tackling him to the ground and landing heavily atop him. A thin, quicksilver-bright length of cord appeared out of nowhere in his hands and he wrapped it tight around Oz’s throat.

            Oz barely managed a cry before the monofilament tightened enough to constrict his breathing. He clawed desperately at the thin cord but it was useless. His hands found only his own skin, which he tore at unabashedly in an attempt to free himself.

            Elliot had tumbled when Oz, his crutch, had been removed. But now in the face of utter peril the adrenaline in his system kicked him into high alert. His discomfort and weakness were nothing compared to the need to save Oz, and they drove him to his feet again. A decorative table a few feet away caught Elliot’s attention and he hurled himself towards it. He snatched up the first heavy thing he could find, a small marble statue of a naked woman, and spun to slam it as hard as he could into the thug’s head. Blood spurted from the point of contact and Elliot gave an involuntary squeal at the sight. The man toppled sideways off of Oz, rendered momentarily unconscious by the force of the blow.

            Oz gasped a hearty breath and shoved his way out from beneath the unconscious man now that the pressure on his throat was free. He had the presence of mind to grab the monofilament from their attacker’s hand before full-on panic set in. He reached for Elliot again and the two of them began to limp down the hall in the direction of the elevator bank.

            “How did you...find...me?” Elliot wheezed.

            “I bug everything that moves,” Oz panted. “Where’s Leo?”

            “Gone...Break...” Elliot managed.

            Oz took a steadying breath. He coughed on the end of it but managed to keep himself held together. “Then we’re on our own,” he said evenly.

            “O-Our own? Where’s...?” Elliot retched violently and a tremor passed down his spine. “-Liam? Raven?”

            “Raven went after Break and Liam went after him.” They turned the corner into the elevator bank and Oz dropped to his knees before the panel of buttons between two elevators. He reached into his breast pocket and extracted a multi-tool, which he used to begin unscrewing the panel from the wall. “Is your car parked in the garage?”

            Elliot coughed again and sagged against the wall. “Yes...B-But...stairs...?”

            “Probably guarded too.” Oz looked up at Elliot, his expression grave. “Charlotte and Lily are after _you_. This whole party’s probably crawling with hired guns.”

            Tension rose between Elliot’s shoulders and he stiffened.

            Oz reached his hand beneath his jacket and came back holding a small revolver in black and Jackrabbit gold. He offered it. “I’m putting the elevator in service mode so we can climb down the shaft. If you see anyone coming point the gun at them. If they don’t stop pull the trigger.”

            Elliot took the weapon and flipped off the safety. He couldn’t resist a slightly perturbed grimace. “This is the...most ridiculous gun...I’ve ever seen...” he wheezed.

            Oz shot him a look. “Fuck you.” He pried the elevator panel off the wall and flipped a small switch inside. The elevator adjacent to it gave a loud buzz and dinged open, baring an empty shaft.

            Just as the doors dinged open a swarm of four or five men led by the bloody-faced one Elliot had clocked with the statuette hurtled around the corner towards them. Two of them pulled guns and cocked them to fire. “Oz!” Elliot called urgently.

            The first bullet struck the wall to the right of Elliot’s shoulder and the second bounced off the back of the elevator shaft. Oz yelped in alarm as a third bullet struck the wall near him and rained plaster down into his eyes. “Elliot, get in there!” he cried.

            Elliot’s finger squeezed automatically on the trigger of the gun. His bullet sang through the air and slammed into the wall between two of the firing thugs. He shot another, which ricocheted harmlessly into the floor. “We’ll be sitting ducks in there!” he called back.

            “ _Just do it!_ ” Oz roared.

            Another bullet struck the elevator door’s frame just inches from Elliot’s head. He gave up on anything but listening to Oz’s intent instruction and hurtled sideways onto the elevator that plunged down the shaft towards the ground floor. He began to scramble downwards, eyes fixated on Oz above.

            Oz gave Elliot a few seconds’ head start and then lunged after him. As he departed he flipped the switch behind the button panel again to put the elevator in its regular mode. He retained a grip on it to tear it from the wall as he plunged downwards. He barely caught himself on the third rung of the ladder as the elevator doors clanged shut behind them. A few more bullets sang against them before the sounds of gunfire were shut away.

            “Are we safe?” Elliot called from a few feet below Oz.

            “Shut up and climb down _fast!_ ” Oz called back. “I had to make sure they wouldn’t follow us. I put the elevator back in passenger mode.”

            Elliot’s face fell. “What does...that mean?” he asked.

            Oz dropped a few rungs lower, urging Elliot down ahead of him. “It means we have about thirty seconds to get into the safety alcove below us before the elevator comes back down and crushes us to death!” he said.

            The urgency in Oz’s voice was accompanied by a creaking squeal from above. Elliot’s eyes shot skyward and he gave a startled cry as he noticed the elevator plummeting towards them from above. He dropped three rungs at once, and then another four. He looked downwards and his chest surged with desperation at the sight of an enclave another ten or so rungs below. “Almost there!” he called. “Almost-“ He dropped a few feet and pressed himself back against the wall of the shallow concrete space hollowed out in the wall for workers to use during elevator testing.

            Oz gave a shout as his grip slipped. He plunged downwards in a free fall, bound directly towards the floor of the chute.

            “No!” Elliot lunged out and grabbed a fistful of Oz’s shirt as he plummeted. He yanked on him hard enough to tug him out of the way of the elevator, which screeched by barely a second after Oz had scrambled to safety.

            The two of them stood breathless and rumpled, terrified and weak and with their hearts thundering the same anxious beat.

            Elliot crumpled first, sagging back against the concrete wall and then to the floor where he rested his head back against the wall. “You...saved my life...”

            Oz fell to his knees and wiped some blood from his mouth. “So you can take back every shitty thing you’ve ever said about me being allergic to strawberries, you sack of trash...” he said.

            “You’re a sack of trash,” Elliot retorted weakly.

            They looked up at one another. The glow of a few safety lights above cast them in a grave pall, two living things isolated in the concrete darkness sweltering around them.

            “You saved my life,” Elliot repeated more sincerely.

            Oz opened his mouth to make a jab or a joke but the words turned to ash in his mouth. “You saved mine,” he said in the same tone.

            “Thank you,” Elliot said.

            “Thank you,” Oz echoed.

            A long pause floated between them, buoyed along by the hesitant, striving lifeboat of a burgeoning friendship.

            “What do we do now? We can’t stay here for long...they’ll find a way to us,” Elliot said.

            Oz poked his head out into the elevator shaft and looked first up and then down. “These safety alcoves are always equipped to put elevators in and out of service mode. I can send the car back up to the top to give us time to climb down to the garage. He turned and studied Elliot. “You’re running on adrenaline right now but I’d give it 20 minutes before that fades and you pass out.”

            Elliot’s face bent in a wry scowl. “Unless someone shoots at me again, right?” he said.

            Oz snorted a laugh. “Yeah, unless someone shoots at you again.” He sat back and uncurled his hand from around the monofilament. It was patchy with his blood and sprung into a neat coil in Oz’s palm.

            The sight of the blood made Elliot wince. “I didn’t know people still fought with things like that,” he murmured.

            Oz’s eyebrows rose in a momentarily skeptical expression. “Break does,” he said.

            Elliot looked critically up at Oz. “What’s that look for?” he asked.

            Oz hissed a laugh. “Oh come on, do _you_ trust him?”

            “I trust Liam,” Elliot replied. “And he trusts Break. That’s enough for me.” He shifted onto his knees and peered out over the edge of the shaft. “They’ll find a way in if we stay here too much longer...We should go.”

            Oz joined him on the edge of the shaft and looked down into it. “When we get to the bottom there will probably be people waiting for us,” he said.

            “Sounds like a chance for your obnoxious handgun to shine,” Elliot muttered.

            Oz shot him a look. “Don’t make me push you.”

            Elliot rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Don’t make me _jump_. You’re such a pain in the ass that I just might,” he said.

            Oz shoved himself away from the edge of the platform and walked back to the button panel. He fumbled with a switch or two and the elevator creaked and whined its way up the shaft past them. He put his hands on his hips and nodded over the edge. “Well, after you.”

            Elliot swung his legs out over empty space and lowered himself onto the ladder again. “Are we headed to the safe house?” he asked.

            “Directly,” Oz affirmed. “Assuming we’ve lost our tail, anyway.”

            Elliot dropped the last few feet onto the ground. He grimaced and gave a disgusted groan as his feet splashed into filthy ankle-deep water. “Gross...” he muttered. He looked up at Oz as he dropped beside him. “And what if we haven’t lost our tail?”

            Oz put his hands in his pockets. “Much as it literally physically pains me to say this...you’re pretty good at that auto racing thing, aren’t you?”

            Elliot smiled. “Yeah, I am,” he said smugly.

            Oz rolled his eyes at the tone in Elliot’s voice and set off down a service tunnel branching off the elevator shaft. “Well if we haven’t lost our tail then I guess we drive like hell.”

* * *

 

            The moment Break registered the blood on Lily’s face something in him changed. An understanding of his perilous situation, his lack of proper armor and backup, and the fierce need to dissect the puzzle of the Baskervilles had all been whirring like conflicting insects in Break’s brain. But the second the reality of combat rose on him a cool calmness settled in place of fear and anxiety. His heartbeat slowed and his breathing grew even. He analyzed the situation around him with a keen, cunning eye and a way forward materialized brilliantly before him.

            _Confuse them. Rattled enemies are easier to fight._

He cleared his throat demurely and – utterly ignoring the horrifying look on Lily’s face – made his meek way to one of the armchairs near the sofa. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at Charlotte. “Oh good...I was hoping I could stay a little longer,” he said.

            As anticipated Charlotte and Lily’s faces both fell into looks of utter bewilderment. Charlotte drew back a step and Lily’s shoulders trembled for a faint moment.

            Break looked between them and lifted a hand to his cheek as though he were covering a blush. “Oh, I’m sorry...have I said something wrong?” he asked.

            Lily’s eyes widened hugely and she shrank away as Break settled in his chair. “Why aren’t you afraid?” she whispered, horrified. “Y-You should be scared!”

            “ _Scared?_ ” Break asked, faking genuine confusion. “Lily dear, whatever of?”

            Charlotte’s fists bunched up and she shoved the couch hard enough to scoot it closer to Break. “Of her!” she cried.

            Break leaned forward in his chair to study Lily’s face. His eyes hooked on hers and he blinked slowly into their eerie depths. “Why would I be scared of a child like this? She’s sweet...” He gave Lily a kind smile. “Aren’t you?”

            “Sweet...” Lily echoed. Her voice lifted into musical sharpness again and she slid forward to rest both hands on the coffee table. She leaned out over the space between she and Break and pressed her forehead against his. “You’re sweet...”

            “What are you doing to her?” Charlotte asked. Visceral horror choked her into silence as Lily drifted forward to touch Break. “Stop it! Lily, stop! _Lily!_ ”

            Break lifted a hand and ran his fingers over the wound on Lily’s face. “Don’t listen to her, Lily...She hurt you, didn’t she?” His voice ached with sympathy.

            Lily nodded. Her lip began to tremble.

            “Oh sweet, sweet girl...” Break sat back and stretched out a hand to Lily, beckoning her close. “ _I’m_ not going to hurt you, Lily...” he murmured, soft and gentle.

            Charlotte had begun to gasp, and as Lily drifted around the coffee table towards Break she gave a frustrated scream. “ _Stop it!_ What did you do to her?!”

            Break gave a quiet hum. He smiled as Lily reached him and took his hand. “That’s a good girl,” he said. His attention drifted to Charlotte and he gave her a placid smile. “Lily, you can sit if you’d like...” Lily dropped to the floor at once.

            Lily looked up at Break, eyes aglow with unfocused light. “May I...put my head on your knee...?” she asked, quiet and desperate.

            Break uncrossed his legs in approval and Lily rested against him at once. He gave Charlotte a cheery smile. “Care to join her?”

            The jovial light in Break’s voice set Lottie’s shoulders trembling. Lily gave a happy sigh and Charlotte’s hand clenched tight on the back of the sofa. Frustrated, terrified tears pricked up in the corners of her eyes. “Who _are_ you?” she demanded in a strained whisper.

            Break dropped a hand and began to stroke Lily’s hair. “Oh come now, you can’t have forgotten my name,” he said with a giggle.

            “Mad...” Lily echoed, her voice full of light and air.

            “Mad,” Break affirmed. He smiled down at Lily. “Such a smart girl...”

            Charlotte’s hand dropped from the back of the sofa and crept towards the small of her back.

            Break’s eyes snapped up again. “ _Stop_ ,” he commanded.

            Charlotte’s hand trembled obediently to a halt for a full second as Break’s eyes bored holes into her. She gritted her teeth and tore her eyes away. The second her gaze was locked on the floor her hand stuttered into movement again. She gave a victorious little laugh. “Your stupid tricks won’t work on me!” she gasped.

            Time seemed to slow as Charlotte reached around behind herself for a throwing knife. Break watched the blade curl out of her fingers and sing through the air towards him. His body moved of its own volition, one hand slipping into his purse and grasping for the handle of his cane. He found it and drew it out in time to use the whip to smack aside the blade.

            The sound of steel on steel jarred Lily out of silent placidity and she gave a shriek. She jerked around to look at Break and her face contorted into a look of wrathful insanity. She bared her teeth and gave a hiss, then launched forward onto Break without warning or hesitancy.

            Their proximity meant Break could do nothing at all to avoid the attack. He braced himself as best he could before Lily’s teeth sank hard into the meat of his shoulder. He screamed involuntarily as blood jetted from the wound and soaked at once into the bodice of his dress and all down his glove. Instinct drove him to flick his wrist and send his whip slicing through the skin of Lily’s back. She released Break’s shoulder to scream and he used the moment of distraction to kick both feet hard into the soft part of her belly. The force of the kick sent Lily flying backwards, where she crashed on her back into the coffee table. Break shoved himself up from the chair only to jerk backwards again as a throwing knife from Charlotte’s arsenal soared through the air where his head had been. It grazed the side of his face and a warm trickle of blood slid down his cheek.

            Silence and stillness fell in the wake of the brief fight. Lily lay panting on the table, her breathing labored and stunned, while Charlotte’s and Break’s eyes connected again in a dark glare. Charlotte lifted another knife and Break tightened his grip around his cane’s handle once more.

            After a long, tense beat a gathering of tension in Charlotte’s shoulders released and she looked down at the floor on impulse.

            Break bared his teeth in a grin as Charlotte’s expression grew more submissive. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That was a stupid thing to do,” he hissed. He turned his face to study the wound in his left shoulder and flexed the arm experimentally. Blood oozed from the wound and he winced. “Fuck...” He rose and coiled his whip gently around his hand and wrist once more, then started around the table and towards Charlotte. “Do you know why I came here, Charlotte?” he asked coolly.

            Charlotte’s shoulders began to tremble as Break drew near. “Who are you...?” she asked again, weakly.

            Break gave a low hum in his throat. “I believe I asked you a question first...” He reached his empty hand towards Charlotte. He twisted one of her curls around his finger. “What are you so afraid of? I’m not going to hurt you...”

            Charlotte’s breathing quickened. “You hurt Lily...” she protested, though each syllable was wracked with fear.

            Break clicked his tongue. “I had to hurt Lily. She hurt me. But I didn’t _want_ to do it. I wouldn’t have, if she’d been good,” he crooned.

            Lily turned onto her stomach and slid to the floor behind the couch, cowering away from Break. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

            Break gave her a sweet smile. “Already forgiven, sweetness,” he said softly. He returned his attention to Charlotte. “As for you...I’m giving you a chance. You’ve been stupid.” He dropped his hand from Charlotte’s hair to her waist and plucked one of the throwing knives from the secret sheath hidden among her skirts. He tested its weight in his gloved hand and studied the shape of it. “Yours are the only fingerprints on this weapon, you know...I don’t think your boss would be too happy with you for killing Lily. Not with what happened to Fang, and all,” he said.

            Charlotte stiffened and Lily’s eyes widened hugely. “How could you possibly...?” Charlotte breathed.

            Break dismissed the question with a perturbed sigh. He turned towards Lily and raised the knife in her direction. “Tell me who you’re working for, Charlotte,” he commanded.

            “I...I’m s-sorry, sir, but I-“

            Break backhanded Charlotte across the face hard enough to send her stumbling back a few feet. His cool, commanding presence vanished at once as he wheeled on Charlotte. His whip cracked out and lanced a deep gash on her upper arm. “Don’t call me sir!” he roared.

            “Sir...” It was Lily’s voice, high and bizarre with the inflection that had angered Charlotte before.

            Break’s jaw clenched and his hand tightened around the handle of his whip. “What did you say?” he asked, low and eerie.

            “You’re a _sir!_ ” Lily chirped. She gave an elated gasp as Break stiffened further. “Oh _look!_ You know what that means! Who’s called you that before, hmmm? Who did you hurt? Who did you make your _slave?_ You’re a bad, bad man, aren’t you, Mad? The worst. The kind that _likes_ to hurt other people?”

            Break turned slowly to face Lily. His thick façade of grace and cunning allure had cracked, revealing a sliver of the deep, aching hurt and fear beneath.

            Lily gave Break a toothy grin and crawled towards him on the sofa. Her eyes dug trenches in him, drawing at the thread of despair she’d unearthed. “Look at you...Run, run, run, as fast as you can...but you can’t get away, can you? From that thing you’re hiding from? From that _hurt_ you caused? It’ll follow, follow, follow you forever, all the way down the road,” she said with a shake of her head. Break edged a step closer and Lily leaned out to close more of the space between them. She studied his eyes in detail. “Aren’t you sad? Aren’t you tired of running? Don’t you wish things were different?” She lifted a hand and grazed her sharpened nails over Break’s cheek and down his throat. “Things can’t follow when you’re dead,” she said simply. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be dead? You could be, you know. So, so easily...It wouldn’t hurt, and you wouldn’t have to run anymore...”

            Break leaned slightly into Lily’s touch. “It wouldn’t hurt...?” he whispered desperately.

            A victorious edge crept into Lily’s smile as she pricked one nail into the skin of Beak’s neck. “Not even a little...I promise. You said you’d never hurt me...I’d never hurt you, either...” she assured him.

            “Wow...I...” Break looked down. His grip on his whip softened and it uncoiled from around his wrist and hand. The throwing knife, too, went almost limp between his fingers. Tears filled his eyes and he sniffled softly. “Lily, I...” Break gave another half-sobbed breath. He reached up to wipe the tears from his cheek. His next inhale was steady, and his exhale long and even. His eyes lifted from the floor and Lily’s face fell. All trace of submission and despair was gone from Break’s face, having been replaced by eerie, porcelain fury. “I’m afraid you’ve made a grave miscalculation.”

            Lily cried out and launched herself away from Break. Spurred on by Lily’s obvious failure Charlotte jumped away from the wall and threw herself at Beak. Break side-stepped effortlessly, dancing around Charlotte and kicking her squarely in the back. She went tumbling forward onto the couch with Break following. He used Charlotte’s fallen form as a stepping stone to get to Lily, who was making her desperate, stumbling way to the door. Break’s whip lashed out and caught around her ankle. He gave a tug and Lily went crashing to the ground.

            He was on her in half a second, straddling her hips and pinning her arms to the ground with his knees. He brought Charlotte’s throwing knife flush against the tender skin at the base of Lily’s neck and grabbed her hair in his other hand. He leaned in to whisper right in her ear. “You think I’m running _away_ from something, Lily?” He pressed the blade closer to her skin. “No. I’m running _towards_ it.” Lily gave a whimper and Break sat back off of her. “Stay put,” he ordered as he stood.

            He turned to look at Charlotte and walked slowly across the room to kneel on the floor before where she’d collapsed onto the sofa. He reached out and twisted her hair around his finger again. “I think you’re out of tricks, Charlotte...So why don’t we make a deal, instead? You tell me who you’re working for and I’ll break this spell I have you under,” he said.

            “Fuck you,” Charlotte hissed.

            Break shook his head. “You know, everyone I’m working with is terrified of you and Lily because you’re Baskervilles. But I have you figured out. Underneath those special, altered bodies and that brazen insanity you’re nothing more than dogs. You come when you’re called, you do what you’re told, and you follow orders. I’m not afraid of dogs. You have no power over me,” he said with a shake of his head. His hand slipped out of Charlotte’s hair. “I know killing you won’t end this. It’ll probably only piss off the people who’re giving your orders and send more of their dogs after me...but damn if it won’t feel good.” His hand lifted once more and settled loosely around Charlotte’s throat. “Now, I broke a promise to the man I love to get here. Make it worth my while or I swear you’ll regret it.” He tipped his head. “So, I’ll ask again...who do you work for, Charlotte?”

            Charlotte clenched her jaw. “When you break this spell I’m going to tear you apart,” she spat.

            “Take your chances. I’d give it five minutes tops before someone comes to save me,” Break said with a casual shrug.

            “Who, Raven?” Charlotte spat the name like an insult. “What kind of harm could that stupid-“

            Break’s hand coiled more tightly around Charlotte’s throat. He gave her an icy smile. “Raven would have torn you apart _without_ hesitation. You’re lucky it’s me and not him,” he said.

            Charlotte’s lip curled. “Don’t you know? He’s nothing but a-“

            The knife darted up in Break’s hand and nicked a deep wound along Charlotte’s jawline. “A strong, capable man? Why, I couldn’t agree more, Charlotte.” His face grew cold again. “One more word about Raven and the deal’s off...Give me the answer I’m looking for or I’ll ask Lily to rip you to shreds.”

            Charlotte’s face clouded with genuine fear. Her resolve held firm for a long moment, but crumbled under the continued pressure of Break’s stare. She gave a low growl and grabbed him by the back of the neck to pull him close. She took a long breath and then whispered a single, poignant word in Break’s ear.

            Break’s stomach jolted and a wave of nausea rose upon him. But he pulled himself together enough to give Charlotte a smile when he drew away. “See, how hard was that?”

            “I hate you,” Charlotte replied coldly.

            “Oh yes, yes, you’re very frightening.” Break straightened and readjusted his skirts. He walked to the middle of the room and looked between Charlotte and Lily. He sighed, still feigning nonchalance though fear was steadily creeping up his back. “My turn to give up the ghost, I guess...As far as I’m concerned from now on you two are as free as the horizon.”

            The calculated phrase had barely passed Break’s lips before Lily and Charlotte both lurched from their positions and threw themselves towards him. Break closed his eyes and clenched his fists, already bracing himself for pain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, in case anyone was looking for a visual representation of Liam and Break's tango, picture something like this.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6-6kN79oIA


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